Day by Day
by Ryokou
Summary: 17 year-old Arthur Kirkland is lost, evicted from his home. A 22 year-old ex army officer named Alfred Jones takes him in, giving him four rules to follow. Tensions rise as the two find the love story between America and England isn't quite over yet...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Woah. Hello, Hetalia fandom *little wave*  
Okay! So! Obviously, I'm new to writing for Hetalia, but by no means new to writing. Enough about me though.  
The idea for this fic is from an RP I and friend have been doing. As such, some lines are taken directly from it. It's gonna be pretty long, and the rating will without a doubt change to M reasonably soon. Also, please note that this is somewhat AU, and ages have been messed with. Alfred is OLDER than Arthur, who is pretty much still a little punk. With a tounge stud. ;D  
Anyways, USUK is very much my Hetalia OTP, I give half credit to my RP buddy, and please read and review this monster. It'll only get better. ((Tell me of any spelling/grammar/punctuation mistakes, and I'll fix them too. XD))  
****  
~ Miria 3**

* * *

"Hey, Alfred." Arthur called with a sigh, noticing the older man as soon as he stepped into the minimally-decorated restaurant. McDonalds. He only came in to use the bathroom. He didn't expect to see someone he knew.

But then, naturally Alfred would be here.

Alfred glanced up from where he sat in the corner, dipping his fries into his shake. "Hey what?"

"I didn't know you still did that with your food." Arthur started, raising an eyebrow. He wouldn't usually stop and talk to anyone- America of all people, but band practice ended early, and he didn't want to go home, and all the usual excuses one could make for talking to someone.

" What, it tastes awesome this way. Ketchup is good, too, but this way it's salty-sweet instead of salty-salty. You know? Want some?" Alfred asked, grinning widely and offering a few fries to the British boy, still dripping with strawberry shake.

"...In strawberry?" Arthur frowned, disinterested. "It sounds gross."

Alfred shrugged, pushing the fry at his 'friend'. "I like it. What flavour would you pick?"

"Che. Damnit, Al." Arthur began, frowning and wiping a drop of pink ice cream off his lip. " I don't know, not strawberry?" Now, he was beginning to regret even stopping.

"Fine, fine, your loss." Alfred began, smiling wickedly as he popped the food into his own mouth. "For someone who can't cook, you sure are picky."

"I-I can too cook! Don't act like my food is any worse than yours!" Arthur retorted, blushing, and slipping into defence mode.

"Oh yeah? Then tell me why there's a McDonald's or a Starbucks in pretty much every country ever but not a... a... I don't know, what do you call your scone and tea places?"

"People make them at home. Not at huge chain resturants!"

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred waved a hand dismissively. "Well, I'm too busy being a hero to cook at home anyways! I can't say the same for you."

Arthur rolled his eyes, the blush fading from his cheeks. "I'm sure you are. What heroic things have you done lately?"

The look on Alfred's face brightened, causing Arthur to frown. "Oh! I was just talking about this to Yao yesterday, actually I made five million ice cream machines to help combat global warming! How awesome is that? Too awesome, huh?"

"...do you know how much greenhouse gas that would have produced?" Arthur exclaimed. "You're a bug part of the problem!"

Alfred laughed, smiling brightly. "You're such a worrywart. Here, I'll show you a cute one!" the American announced, picking up a small ball from near his feet, tossing it to Arthur. "The downside is that I still have to fill it with ice, though. I'll have to figure out how to keep it cold without needing to refill it! What do you think?"

"The hell are you talking about, Al?" Arthur stumbled. "We're in a restaurant! You can't just throw things! And…it's...a ball."

"Your powers of observation are astounding, Arthur. Let's play catch!" The older blonde laughed.

"Screw you... Catch, Al." the small boy deadpanned, unenthusiastically tossing the small, cold ball back.

"So what have you been up to?" Alfred asked, smirking slightly as Arthur missed the next toss. He crossed his legs, leaning back in the seat.

"Damnit. Um, the oil spill. No time for fun."

Alfred frowned, knowing all too well about that. "Yeah. That sucks. Maybe some ice cream will cheer you up?"

"If I were /you/, then yes." Arthur huffed.

"It's worth a shot." Alfred shrugged, smiling. "But we won't have any ice cream if you don't throw me that ball."

"Tch...stupid." Arthur muttered in reply, throwing the ball back.

"Just...make it chocolate flavoured. Or something."

" Alright. Just give me a second." The older replied, raising his eyebrows and smiling slightly.

"What? It's my favourite."

Alfred smiled. "Didn't say anything against it. I was GOING to make it tea-flavored, but I'm glad you spoke up. Chocolate... I'll keep that in mind." he winked. "Would you have eaten the fries if the shake were that flavor?"

"T-tea flavoured? That's...it sounds kinda gross!

And what's the wink for...?"

Tea flavoured ICE CREAM? That was practically blasphemy to the Brit. You couldn't mix tea, perfect tea, with that...American crap.

God. For a twenty-something, Alfred was damn immature.

"It's actually pretty good! Much better than drinking the stuff, anyway. And you're so candid, it's cute and not-cute at the same time." Alfred laughed, smiling at the boy, quickly tacking on that 'and not' bit. Damn. That was close. But...Arthur WAS cute, he realized with a start.

"No no no. Drinking tea is the way to go. "Not...fucking ice cream."

A-and I'm not cute at all! And what do you mean 'cute and not-cute'?" Arthur fumbled with the words, blushing furiously.

"You're such a purist. Don't you ever get bored? And you're pretty cute. I mean, you're like thiiis big." He held a thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "But you're Arthur, which automatically makes you un-cute." He finished, grinning widely.

"I'm not much smaller than you!" Arthur complained, rolling his eyes. "And this is why everyone's always annoyed with you.''

Alfred blinked, startled. "What did I do to make everyone annoyed with me? And I've got a few inches on you. Look." He put one hand palm-down at Arthur's height and one at his own to compare. There really was at least a seven inch difference...

"Nothing, I guess..." Arthur replied, blushing. "Fine, I mean, nobody is mad with you. You're just...obnoxious sometimes." More like all the time...

Alfred laughed, relieved. 'Oh, is that all? Well, that's fine. You're obnoxious sometimes, too!' He moved the hand that had been measuring Arthur's height to ruffle his hair affectionately.

"Am not." he blushed, shaking his head and looking away. "Tch. Is the ice cream done yet?"

Alfred spun the ball on his finger, tossing it up and down a few times. 'Probably,' he said, shaking it next to his ear and listening for any sloshing noises. 'I mean, we haven't really be moving it around a lot, but I'm pretty sure it's solid now.' He opened the ball and pulled two spoons out of his coat pocket. 'After you!'

"You keep spoons...in your pocket?" Arthur asked in disbelief, shaking his head. "But thanks, I guess" he replied grudgingly, stepping over to the man and taking a spoon, digging it into the ball. "It better be good..." he trailed off, taking a bite.

"When I'm carrying around an ice cream ball, yeah." He laughed, taking a bite himself. "Why are you always so picky about food...?"

Arthur laughed quietly. "Well, it's not bad...I mean, it's actually pretty good." he blushed lightly, not really wanting to admit that, and ignoring the stupid question.

Alfred smiled, pleased. "Yeah? You like it?" His tone switched from happy to teasing. "Well, yeah, of course you like it. I made it so it's gotta be perfect~"

"That's not how it works, stupid!" he blushed. "Tch, no wonder you don't have a girlfriend, you're pretty obnoxious..." Arthur commented.

"Oh really? Huh, somehow I was sure that my genius that made the ice cream awesome, but I guess you can also give credit to the ingredients, or your amazing ball-handling skills." He laughed, spooning some more of the sweet stuff into his mouth. "Anyway, how would you know if I had a girlfriend or not? Though I don't. Don't really want one, either."

"It was my ball-handling skills." he replied, faltering and blushing dark red after he realised how bad that sounded. Gah! Since when was Alfred so perverted? "Mm. Fine, I guess I don't know." he stuck his tounge out, a small silver stud glinting in his mouth. "And I understand not wanting a girlfriend." he laughed.

Alfred grinned widely at the teen's blush, intending the double-entendre all along. "I'm sure it was. And yeah, they tend to be a little moody, huh? Though you're the same way, too." He flicked his fingertip lightly against Arthur's tongue ring, looking vaguely fascinated.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the older male, frowning slightly. "...That was on purpose, wasn't it?" he continued to blush. "A-and what are you doing?" he asked, quickly bringing his tounge back in.

"I've got no idea what you're talking about," Alfred said innocently. "And isn't that a little kinky for a... how old are you again? Is that even legal?"

"You're such a bad liar." he blushed. "A-and what? It is not! And I'm seventeen!"

"Is too. And I figured you were sticking your tongue out to show it off - otherwise it'd be a little immature for someone who's seventeen, don't you think?" He smiled easily, that slight fascination still on his face. "Hey, can I see it again?"

"It's not k-kinky unless you choose to think of it that way!" the blush spread to his ears as he shook his head. "And why do you want to see it again?" he asked warily.

"Well, I hear tell that it feels amazing." He smirked a little. "And anyway, it looks kinda cool. Did it hurt?"

"W-well you're stupid!" he defended. "And don't believe everything you hear." Arthur retorted quickly. Maybe it wasn't a good response, but what else could he say? Reluctantly, he opened his mouth slightly, just wide enough for Alfred to see. "Ah, it didn't hurt much, no."

"Yeah, maybe I am stupid," he agreed easily. "But I have been meaning to try that out sometime myself, anyway. Never know until you try, right?" He winked, then leaned over to peer into Arthur's mouth curiously. He lightly touched the side of Arthur's mouth with his gloved thumb, pressing it open a little more to get a better view. "Yeah, that looks pretty cool, man."

"Good you admit it." he muttered, his blush not letting up in the slightest, especially at his next comment. "A-and how exactly do you plan on trying it out?" he asked, bringing his hand up to hold Alfred's arm, so he'd at least have some control over the hand in his mouth.

"Keep in mind that I said 'that looks cool', not 'you look cool," Alfred replied teasingly, mildly surprised that Arthur hadn't bitten his thumb off. "And how do you think?" He let his thumb drag along Arthur's lower lip before taking a couple steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets with a wide grin.

"I-I didn't assume you meant me!" he scoffed. "I could care less what you think of me, Al." Arthur responded, his eyes widening at the contact on his lip, as he, if possible, blushed even darker. "I-I don't!...gah." he spluttered, for whatever reason, unable to form a full sentence.

Alfred laughed, in that full-throated and happy way that he had. "You're fun," he said, in a tone that somehow sounded both like teasing and like admitting. "I'll see you around, alright?" He smiled candidly, hands still jammed in the pockets of his bomber jacket as he took a couple of rocking steps backwards.

"Wait, where are you going...?" Arthur questioned, taking an involuntary step forwards, resisting the urge to hold his hand out. "N-not that I care much. I'm just wondering..."

Alfred blinked, surprised that Arthur would ask. "Uh. I was just gonna head home. Why, you wanna come with me?" He gave a roguish wink. "I thought it would be a good time for the hero to exit the stage - I like leaving people hot and bothered."

Arthur shook his head vehemently. "I-I don't mind the concept of coming over." he blushed. "But then, you seem kind of suspicious." he begun, looking up at Alfred. "Who knows what you'd try to do..."

Alfred made a mock-offended face, hands up. "Who, me? How could you possibly suspect me of any wrongdoing? I'm the hero!" He chewed at the inside of his lip - he hadn't actually thought this boy would take him up on his offer. With a shrug and a grin, he turned around in a kind of slow, half-spin and started walking. "Alright, come on, then. And bring the ice cream, will you? It'd be a waste to leave it there. Even if I do have four-million-plus left."

Arthur bent down to pick up the ice cream ball- what a weird invention-, and followed after Alfred. What the hell was he getting himself into? "I-I mean, unless you don't really want me over." he said, matching his pace to the taller nation's. Damnit, he was stuttering again.

Alfred glanced down at the ball in Arthur's hands - what an awesome invention - and decided they should probably walk quickly, the ice cream already melting and pooling around the edges. "Nah, it's cool. Nice to have some company from time to time. Wasn't expecting anyone, though, so it's kinda a mess." He picked up his pace a little, but not too much, mindful of the teen's shorter legs.

"Mm. I'll be okay, messes don't bother me much." he shrugged, smiling slightly. "...don't tell me you're rushing so that this doesn't melt.." Arthur observed, rolling his eyes. "Though...I'd hate for it to go to waste, it IS chocolate."

"Hey, don't roll your eyes at me! There's a special place in hell for people who waste ice cream!" Alfred reached over and tweaked Arthur's nose, speeding up a little just to bother him.

"You're so dumb." Arthur huffed, finding himself blushing at every bit of contact, which was just plain STUPID. Still, he quickened his pace a bit, attempting to keep up.

Alfred laughed, inwardly resenting that this younger Arthur was just as blustery and vulnerable as always, and therefore just as charming. His ears burned. "Hey, being dumb has its advantages too, you know! 'Cept, of course, I'm a genius, so I wouldn't know. Hey, hey, did I tell you about my plan to make a giant inflatable island to save all the polar bears?"

"That doesn't even make sense." Arthur pouted. "If you say being dumb has it's advantages, you obviously know. So don't say you don't." the boy said, quirking his eyebrow. "And polar bears have /claws/, Al."

Alfred matched Arthur's pout with his own. "There you go, throwing my words back at me. How mean~. Well, sometimes - even if you're a genius like me, which can make it hard, let me tell you - it's advantageous to MAKE yourself dumb, yanno? And I know they have claws! That's the biggest hitch in my plan, probably. Gotta make the islands thick... See more, thicker than tires. Then maybe it'd work." He started muttering calculations under his breath, trying to figure out how long that would take and how much it would cost.

"When is it good to make yourself dumb?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes. "Last I checked, it was something people /avoided/...but I digress." he frowned at the older boy, considering what he had just said. "Potentially...that idea makes some sense."

Alfred just smiled, deciding that the conversation was getting too serious for his taste anyway. "Yeah, I know, right? They're inflatable so they'll float, see, and be cheap and easy enough to make that it's at least a good short-term solution!" He slowed his pace enough that conversation was easier on them. His flat was only a couple of blocks away at this point. "By the way, I think that look is good on you," he said matter-of-factly. Glancing back at Arthur who was a little flushed and breathless, he allowed a small smirk to make its way onto his lips.

"But long-term...how about we all just work on stopping global warming?" Arthur began. "That seems like a pretty good plan, if you think about it." he laughed, catching up to Alfred, finally able to return to a normal pace. "...wait, what?" the teenager asked, a little confused. "What look is this?"

"Yeah, that looks damn good." He grinned at Arthur cheekily. "Never mind. If you can't figure it out on your own, I won't tell you. Anyway, we're almost there."

"Ah...okay?" he responded, running a hand through his hair. "You're still weird though." he laughed, starting to stick his tounge out, but catching himself in time. He'd really have to be more careful about that.

Alfred caught the slip, and pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at the teen outright. "Yeah, okay, I can deal with being weird. Hey, here we are." He stepped into the building, hopping on the elevator and gesturing for Arthur to hurry up, pushing at the buttons impatiently.

"I'm coming, Alfred. Calm down." he laughed slightly, stepping into the elevator softly, looking around. "It's a pretty nice building."

Alfred flashed a grin. "Thanks," he said, as the elevator began to move smoothly upwards. "Why settle for less?" When they got to his floor - 13, which was attractive in it's unluckiness, he commented - he opened the door, gesturing grandly. "Welcome to my humble abode!" It was a spacious flat, clearly expensive, but surprisingly empty of most... See more personal touches. He shut the door behind them, casually flipping the lock, and toed off his shoes, taking the ice cream ball from Arthur and padding into the kitchen to put it away.

Arthur walked into the room, looking around to take it all in. "It's nice...sort of empty though, don't you think?" he smiled softly. "You need more personal touches, it doesn't seem like anyone lives here!" the boy announced, noticing how Alfred locked the door, completely disregarding it. You have to lock doors in the city. He slipped off his shoes as well, and took off his jacket, setting it on the floor next to the shoes. Smiling slightly, he walked over to the couch, running his hand over to the fabric as he moved towards the window.

Alfred smiled, leaning against a wall, watching at Arthur looking around the apartment. "Well, I wasn't living here for a while. And I got rid of a lot of stuff when I did come back. I got tired of the clutter." Despite Alfred's earlier claim of a mess, the place was almost severely organized and neat, save for the scattered video games that lay on the floor next to his consoles. The games were all rented, the Blockbuster logo on each of the spines.

"Let up a bit." Arthur smiled, in earnest this time. "I mean, I understand organization is good, but you take it above and beyond." Arthur smiled over his shoulder at his friend, before turning back towards the window. He played with the sleeve of his button-up shirt, which was just a nervous tic he had picked up. "It's a really nice place though, maybe get a roommate to liven it up." he suggested.

Alfred gave a half-shrug, even though Arthur couldn't see it. "Don't really look the type, do I?" He laughed a little, straightening and walking towards Arthur, his eyes drawn to the sleeve that Arthur was tugging at. "And I don't think many people would like living with me. Are you volunteering?" He stopped about a foot away, his smile slightly dangerous, the look in his eyes sharpening.

"Nope." he smiled. "I mean, you seem like you'd be messier." he shrugged. Hearing the footsteps behind him, he turned around. "A-ah? Am I what?" he asked, blushing again from Alfred's close proximity. The smile making it's way onto his lips didn't quite help either. "Am I offering t-to live with you?" Arthur clarified, continuing to play with his sleeve.

"That's what I was asking, yes, but sometimes I wonder if you can tell when I'm joking." His eyes moved from Arthur's face to his sleeve and back again. "So. Just wondering," Alfred began conversationally, lifting one hand and planting it against the window by Arthur's head, effectively making a cage with his body. "Do you usually follow people home when you've barely met them? I mean, you know me, I'm America. But you don't really _know _me, do you?"

Arthur backed into the wall slightly, his back up against the window. Well, fuck. "N-no..." he stuttered. "That wouldn't be safe..." he trailed off, taking a shaky breath. "But...I guess I don't know /you/ too well, but I know America, and I got evicted from my apartment anyways." he stated quietly, looking up at Alfred.

"You're right," Alfred crooned softly. "It wouldn't be safe. Especially when the other person is unquestionably bigger and stronger than you are. Which I am." His smile turned sharp. "I'll admit, it makes me happy that you trust me so much. But at the same time, it really Pisses. Me. Off. Do you get that?" He sighed and took a step back, dropping his hand. "But you're right. You know me well enough. I won't do anything to you... What did you do to get evicted, anyway?" he asked lamely, attempting to change the subject.

Arthur stayed in the same spot as he was before, visibly shaken. "I-I know. It was stupid to come back with you." He didn't really know if he was in the clear yet, all he knew was that was easily one of the scariest moments of his life. "T-the apartments weren't safe." he explained, looking away. "Water damage, and the gas system.." he trailed off. "It wasn't a good neighborhood in the first place. Gangs, prostitutes, you know..."

Alfred gave him a wan smile. "So, nothing like trashing the place or skipping out on your rent? See, I need to know these things if I'm going to have you room with me. Nothing long term, mind you - just a month or so until you find your own place. If you want to. If you can take it. But this is my territory and I don't like feeling taken advantage of, understand?" He walked over to the couch and sat down, only to stand up again a second later. He shot Arthur a look. "Stop looking so freaked out - I already said I'm not gonna hurt you."

Arthur swallowed, closing his eyes. His heartbeat was still a bit irregular. The American was...hella scary when he wanted to be. "I-I don't know how I could possibly take advantage of you." he mumbled, relaxing his body slightly. "And I'll pay you back, whatever the rent is." the younger boy looked over at Alfred, taking a deep breath and nodding. "I'm sorry."

Alfred didn't say anything at first, walking restlessly around the room, straightening books and papers that were already straight, trying to feel like he was in control instead of like a too-large cat in a shrinking cage. He stopped in front of Arthur, this time a respectful distance away, and met his eyes. "No, I'm sorry. I was out of line. It's not like I want you to be scared of me, I just needed to be..." He cut himself off, glancing away at nothing, frustrated, before looking back and offering a sheepish smile. "Anyway, where's your stuff? We can pick it up later tonight and grab some take-out while we're at it. How does pizza sound?"

Arthur looked towards the man, taking one deep breath and forcing himself to relax. What did he have to lose anyways? "You weren't really out of line..." he responded quietly. "I was being stupid." Arthur laughed weakly. "And I think it worked, you scared the shit out of me. I definitely won't be following people home anytime soon." eyeing the older man suspiciously, but not in a hostile way, he repeated after him. "You just needed to be what?" Arthur shook his head, moving away from the window and towards the couch, where he sat down stiffly and began tracing patterns into the fabric. "I don't have much stuff to get, really." it was part of why Arthur followed him home in the first place. He didn't have anything else, and what was the worst that could happen?

"Good," Alfred said to the first part, and simply ignored the question posed. "And that's convenient - there's not a shit ton of space here anyway, and I don't have a car to bring it in." He sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaving a fair amount of space between them, already feeling guilty for his little display and not wanting to make Arthur any more uncomfortable. "Well, I don't really know what living with you is gonna be like, so I'm gonna set three rules to start with and we'll add more as we go along, alright?"

"Alright." Arthur responded simply, nodding. He brought his knees up to his chest, and looked over at the older man. "Whatever rules you set are fine." he shrugged. "It's your place."

Alfred grinned a little. "Well, yeah. Okay, first rule." He put up one finger. "No friends over. At least not right now. I haven't had anyone over in... a long time. So I want to adjust to having you here before I have to deal with any other teenage brats." He smiled teasingly to soften the words. "Second rule." Another finger went up. "Don't touch my guns. Period. Third rule." Three fingers, now, and Alfred's face was dead-serious above them. "I expect you to communicate with me. If you have a problem with anything, if there's something that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me, understand? I don't want you to feel like you don't have the right to speak up just 'cause you're staying here. If I find out that I've been making you miserable without even knowing it, I'm gonna be pissed. And if I'm not mistaken, you don't like it when I'm pissed. Any questions?"

Arthur nodded at the first question, no problem. Sure, he knew people, but nobody he'd want over. They were all kind of seriously jerks anyways. The second rule posed no problem either, Arthur didn't like guns. He didn't like how in a split second, in a fit of rage, you could take someone's life. "No problem." he responded. At the third rule, Arthur looked up to meet the older man's blue eyes. He considered for a moment, then looked back down, smiling softly. "Fair enough." Arthur agreed, bowing his head. "T-thank you."

Alfred smiled back, tired and tender. "No problem. There's still a few hours of daylight left, so let me know when you want to pick up your things, alright? And you never answered about the pizza."

"Ah...the food sounds wonderful." he smiled. "And as far as my stuff goes...I basically just have some clothes." Arthur laughed. "And a couple of books."

"Great. What kind do you like? And that doesn't sound too bad - we could probably grab it in one trip, huh? The restaurant where we met is about a mile away from here. If it's around there we'll just walk. Any further and we'll take my bike."

"Anything." he responded, smiling slightly, but still sitting in a somewhat defensive position. "I'm just hungry." he laughed. "And it is right around the park, I can walk and get my stuff, if you'd like...maybe while you get the food?"

"Sounds good," Alfred said, unfolding himself from the couch and stretching. "Let's head out right now, since you're hungry. I'll probably be back before you are, so just knock."

"Thank you...again." Arthur mumbled, nodding towards Alfred as he stood up and padded over to the door, slipping his shoes on, and putting his coat back on. "I'll be back soon." The British boy finished, unlocking the door- shaking off his question of why Alfred even locked it- and stepping outside. Walking down the street, he couldn't help but wonder exactly what the fuck he just got into

Alfred balanced the large pizza box against his hip with one hand, using the other to pull out a ring of keys and unlock his door. He'd taken a side trip to get a spare made for Arthur, and was glad to see that the detour hadn't prevented him from beating the other boy back home. He'd have felt bad if he'd made him wait outside the door.

He set the pizza on the table and took a brisk walk around his flat, checking each room to see which would be best suited to being a spare bedroom. He noted regretfully that he'd gotten rid of the extra bed months ago, no longer being one to have anyone over, much less spend the night. They'd have to get one in the next couple of days.

There was one room he didn't bother to check - his stomach tightened whenever he thought of it and he wished now that the door had a lock. A row of toy soldiers, several different American flags, a musket, war medals - it contained every sentimental item that he hadn't gotten rid of, and was intensely private. That, he decided, would be rule number four. Some things weren't meant to be shared.

* * *

Arthur wasn't really in a hurry as he walked back to the apartment, a million thoughts racing through his head. He found somewhere to live, that was good. It was with /America/, who, let's face it, was the last person he thought he'd end up living with. It wasn't bad, it was just...unexpected. At the very least, he'd b...e safe there, that was pretty much a given. Arthur stopped at his door, walking into the room-the doors were never locked anymore- and placing his clothes into a cardboard box he has lying around. He next took the books off his shelf, mostly Shakespeare, he didn't want to lose those. The last thing he did was walk over to his bed, to his nightstand.

On it was a small framed picture of four men, and a last person with long black hair of questionable gender. From left to right was a scruffily-bearded blonde, that small, Asian man, himself, albeit a bit older, a man that looked just like the Al he had just met, who had his arm wrapped around the older Arthur, and a tall, ashy-blonde haired man holding a sunflower. Arthur let out a little sad laugh, picking up the picture delicately, and placing it between some clothes in the box. With a last look around the pretty empty apartment, he walked out, closing the door with few regrets. He made his way back to the larger apartment he would now share with the older man, took the elevator up to the thirteenth floor, and knocked on the door. God knows if he was home yet or not...

* * *

Alfred opened the door, leaning out of it and somehow still looming over Arthur. "Password?" A beat, and then he grinned. "Just kidding. Is that everything? Man, we have to take you shopping or something." He took the box from Arthur's arms and carried it over to a room, setting it on the ground. "This is your room. Bathroom's to your left, I'm right across from you, and my office is to your right. Room next to that's off-limits, that's rule number four. I've still got some stuff here but I'll move it into the office tomorrow. Any questions?"

Arthur looked up at the man, slightly wide eyed, but managed to crack a smile regardless. "So, you've got a sense of humour." he laughed. "But really, we should have a password." he rolled his eyes, once again catching himself before he stuck his tounge out. "And yup, this is all I've got..." he trailed off, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Arthur nodded, the room's layout wasn't that hard to figure out. And the addition of another rule didn't really bother him. He walked into the flat, smiling softly. So, maybe trusting the man would be a bad idea in the long run. But maybe it wouldn't. And he could only hope for the latter.

A look of mock-indignation crossed Alfred's face. "Hey, I'm America. I'm practically the definition of humour!" There was a puffed up tone of pride and a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone as he said it. "And you really want a password? I don't think you'll need it." He tossed Arthur the spare key he'd made. "But we can have one if you want." He laughed. "I almost feel like a kid... are we gonna have a secret fort, too?" His tone was teasing, but the idea of it actually pleased him a little - as a colony and fledgling country he'd never had passwords and forts because he'd never had any friends.

"I wouldn't mind." Arthur laughed. "I like passwords. And a fort sounds fine too. Like, made of pillows and blankets?" he caught the key, eyes wide. "Thanks, Alfred..." he smiled slightly.

"No problem." Alfred smiled back. "Hey, the pizza's still warm. Why don't you go grab it and a couple of beers from the fridge?" He didn't wait for an answer, obviously expecting Arthur to comply, and walked into his bedroom.

"Alright." he smiled at the older man, turning away and stepping over to the kitchen, "The pizza..." he grabbed it, moving to the fridge and grabbing a beer for Alfred. He looked around, deciding to settle on the couch.

Alfred stepped out of his bedroom with his arms full of sheets and pillows. He flashed Arthur a quick smile before dropping the stuff on the coffee table, rearranging some chairs and throwing the sheets over them, weighting them down with books. In less than a minute, he'd made a halfway respectable fort. He tossed some cushions inside before stepping back to look at his handiwork. Without looking at Arthur, he leaned over and re-adjusted a corner, asking, "You don't drink?"

Arthur watched, biting back a smile as he watched the older man build a fort. "Aha! Nice." he laughed when Alfred finished. "Ah? No, I don't...not tonight, anyways." the boy replied, shaking his head. "I want to just get to know you better, and not have it influenced by alcohol." Arthur finished, smiling.

Alfred stared at him a moment, flushing slightly. "Oh. Well, that's as good a reason as any. It'd be weird if you didn't drink at all, considering you're ENGLAND, but... yeah." He picked up the beer and walked back to the fridge, putting it away and grabbing two bottles of coke instead. "Soda okay with you?"

"No, no. It's fine if you drink!" Arthur laughed, shaking his head. "I just...don't hold my alcohol too well." the boy smiled. "I get drunk at the tiniest bit." he finished, sticking his tounge out. "But I'll drink soda."

Alfred smiled, walking over to the fort and sitting inside, the two bottles sweating on the floor by his feet. "Nah. I want to get to know you better, too. By the way," he said matter-of-factly, gesturing to Arthur's tounge "If you keep doing that I'm going to bite it."

Arthur crawled in after him, blushing slightly. "Right, I totally forgot you liked it so much." he rolled his eyes, glancing over at the older man. Whatever he seemed initially...he didn't really to have bad intentions. At least, Arthur thought. He sat down on the floor, laughing slightly. "We really built a fort..."

"Yeah, I do." He grinned wickedly. "So don't tempt me." He meant it to come off as teasing, but there was a thread of seriousness in the request/command. He couldn't even think of that little nub of metal without wanting to push Arthur's mouth open to take a look, to see what it felt like against his own tongue. He shook his head to clear the mental image. "And what do you mean, 'we'? I believe this is purely American craftsmanship right here."

Arthur was so so so tempted to stick it out again, but resisted. It was probably best to listen to the man now, at least until he knew him better. "Ah, American craftsmanship?" he smirked. "That's why it falls down." he teased, tugging at a corner of the blanket, causing the edge to collapse over his head.

"Hey, now," Alfred protested, reaching over to rebuild that corner. "It can only stand up to what can reasonably be expected of it." He paused for a half-second, realizing his mistake when he breathed in and smelled only Arthur, before he turned and exited the fort, taking a sharp breath of Arthur-free air and grabbing the pizza. "You could have at least brought the spoils with you when you came in," he grumbled good-naturedly, re-entering the fort and returning to his spot a relatively safe distance away.

Arthur laughed, leaning back on his elbows. "I suppose you have a point. But it's still 'American Craftsmanship', is it not?" he teased again, watching the older male with curiosity as he moved to take a breath outside. He didn't smell weird, did he..? Arthur shook his head, disregarding it. "Ah? Sorry." he replied. "I'll grab the food next time we make a fort. Assuming we do." he smiled.

"'Course we will," Alfred said with a grin, opening the box and grabbing a slice, using his free hand to offer Arthur one of the Cokes. "And this American Craftsmanship is to fit the needs of the occasion, which does not include you messing with its pillars of support." He took a bite, chewed and swallowed. "You said you didn't care what was on it, so I got the works. Pretty much everything but the kitchen sink. And anchovies. I like my pizza sink-and-seafood-free."

"That's more than fine." he agreed. "Anchovies are disgusting." Arthur smiled again, taking a drink from the bottle, frowning slightly as the foam came out of the top. Stupid carbonation... He quickly licked it up, so the Alfred wouldn't pay much attention to the tongue stud. "So. How long have you lived here?"

Alfred watched him, his eyes going hot and blind for a split second. He swore the boy was doing this to him on purpose. Either that or he'd upset some vengeful god. He tried think of what he might have done to rile said deity but gave up when he realized he had hundreds of years' worth of things to count off. "A while, now," he murmured vaguely around the lip of his own bottle. "Left it empty for a couple of years and moved in again a while back. I have a couple of other places that I frequent sometimes, too. Gotta get out in the country sometimes when I can't... When I feel like it."

"When you can't...?" Arthur shook his head. It seemed like Alfred trailed off mid-sentence a lot. "Do you like living here?" he smiled, attempting to change the subject, Alfred seemed unhappy with it. "How old are you then?" he laughed. "In physical years, that is."

Alfred latched onto the subject change with some measure of relief. He really needed to watch what he said more carefully. He was used to joking around so it wasn't usually a problem, but serious conversation made him feel awkward and vulnerable. "Yeah, I like it." He flashed a grin. "Everything is pretty much in walking distance. And I'm twenty-one." He polished off his first slice and took a swig of cola.

"Don't worry about what you say, Al." the teenager frowned, as if he could read minds. Which he couldn't, body language was just pretty easy for him. "That would be nice." he agreed. "I wouldn't mind being able to just go out some days, without having to plan out a trip." his eyes widened slighly. "That's what I thought." he murmured. Huh. Al was a bit older than him. Oh well. He shrugged it off.

Alfred tensed, setting his jaw. So, he'd been that obvious. Well, he could worry about things if he damn well wanted to. "Nothing's stopping you. Except..." He glanced up, making sure to catch Arthur's eye. "We haven't talked about rent yet." He smirked. "Paying for your room and board could quite possibly take up a decent chunk of your spare time. I'm not interested in your money."

Oh, there it was again. If he paid attention, occasionally, Al's amazing blue eyes would have a trace of something...dangerous in them. It wasn't like, imminent danger, but there was something. "Anyways..." he smiled. "What is it you want?" Arthur asked curiously. It'd have to do, whatever it was. He sure as hell wasn't moving out now that he'd found somewhere to stay, even just for a bit.

Alfred frowned at Arthur's easy readiness to accept his terms. He hoped he wasn't so open with just anyone, or he could get hurt. It was a good thing he'd come here... he swallowed. Actually, he was probably at risk here, too. "I want ...you," he said slowly, reaching over and wiping a smudge of pizza grease off of Arthur's mouth. "... to get good grades." He smiled wryly. "Not to sound like a parent or anything, but no blowing off your schoolwork while you're living here, you got me?"

Arthur looked away after the older male frowned at him. "I-I'm sorry...I shouldn't be so trusting again, should I?" he bit his lip, considering. Was this a good idea? "Grades are no problem." he said softly, still averting his eyes. "I've never had an issue keeping them up."

Alfred flushed a little, pulling his hand back. That was out of line, wasn't it? Arthur wasn't looking at him... well, good. He should be more wary. He picked up another slice of pizza. "That right? Good. There should be no problems, then. Now are you only having one slice or what? No wonder you're thin as a rail."

Arthur looked up at him, green eyes challenging him. "Look, it's not that I'm stupid, I just don't /care/." he emphasized. "I didn't think you were going to hurt me, and so what if you were?" the smaller boy admitted. "That's why I'm not so careful..." he nodded, looking away again. "I'll eat more, I guess..."

"I never said you were stupid," Alfred snapped, knowing full well he'd insinuated it. "And... what do you mean 'so what if I was'? Are you completely lacking in any self-preservation instinct? Don't you have -anyone- who cares about you, who would be upset if you got yourself hurt?"

"No." he answered simply. "I don't really think so. Not anymore..." he trailed off, thinking of the men in the picture he had kept in his box. "I know full well you could be a threat though." he admitted. "It's just...not...something I payed attention to, I guess. It's not too late for me to leave, you know."

"...shit," Alfred hissed, flinching as he felt his heart skip a beat, only to re-start with a viciously gleeful mantra of 'mine, mine, mine'. "No, stay. And eat at least one more slice." He finished eating his own, not really tasting it. "I don't have a spare bed anymore, so you can sleep in mine tonight. I'll take the couch, and we'll get you one in the next couple of days, alright?"

"So?" Arthur begun. "Can you just tell me one thing?" he sighed, shaking his head. "How much of a threat should I consider you? Not how much of a threat /could you/ be. How much you /are/." Arthur picked up another piece of the pizza, biting off a small bit. "I can stay on the couch." he affirmed. "I don't need to sleep in a bed."

Alfred smiled, humorlessly. "Honestly? If my morals were just a little more compromised, I'd have you up against a wall." He tilted his head back and finished off his Coke, throat working and shoulders tense. He lowered the bottle and ran his thumb around the lip. "But they're not. And I won't. So... I'll say 'not much'." He caught Arthur's eyes, trying to convey the seriousness that he felt. "I'm not going to... I'll try not to hurt you, okay? I've kind of got a temper and I can't promise anything else. You feel threatened and you book it, understand?" He sighed and flipped the pizza box closed, before reaching over and taking one of Arthur's hands, balling it into a fist and lightly tapping out 'shave and a haircut' against the edge of a chair. He let go and smartly rapped out 'two bits' with his own knuckles. "There. A password of sorts, until you come up with something else." He offered a smile.

"I'll make sure to tell you..." Arthur frowned. "U-up against a wall...? In a bad way?" he asked. maybe all the options were bad. But it could be in a violent way, or a...slightly more pleasurable way. He blushed slightly, turning away. Arthur looked back at the older man, curiously watching the password play out. "I...I like it." he smiled slightly. ... Goddamnit. Alfred was scary. But he couldn't help but trust him...

Alfred grinned wryly. "Are you saying that there's a good way? Well, I guess that depends on the person, huh?" In any case, it seemed that he hadn't scared the kid away, in spite of his honesty. He tried to squash down the part of himself that was terribly thrilled by this.

He crawled out of the fort and put the pizza box in the fridge, setting the bottle by the kitchen sink, and beggining to wash his hands. "Hey, why don't you go wash up? You smell like stale sweat." Which was true - it had been a hot day and Arthur had walked a mile back carrying everything he owned - but it wasn't a bad smell. Which was exactly the problem.

England blushed deep red, looking away. "W-well...there's a _better _way..." Arthur shook his head. Alfred was fucking scary. But...he wasn't afraid. This couldn't be good. But somehow, he had hope that this wouldn't turn out bad.

"Mm?" Arthur crawled out of the fort, frowning slightly. "Yeah, that sounds good." and it did. A shower, or even just a quick wash would feel great.

"There could be six ways to Sunday and it wouldn't matter anyway because like I said, it's not gonna happen." Alfred smiled, unsure if it was Arthur or himself that he was trying to reassure. "Follow me." Alfred dropped the dishtowel he'd been drying his hands with and took long strides to the bathroom he'd pointed out earlier. "This one's got just a shower. The one in my bedroom's got a shower too, and a bath, but it's a nice, deep one with jets. I don't know who's bright idea it was to only have one and then the other instead of both at once in the main bathroom, but there you have it. I don't care which one you use. Towels are in the cabinet by the sink. There's plenty of soap, body wash, and shampoo for you to use. I don't have any spare toothbrushes so I hope you brought your own - if not, we'll pick one up tomorrow. If you need anything else just holler." He ruffled Arthur's hair briefly before turning on his heel and going to clean up the living room.

"Six ways to Sunday...?" Arthur mumbled. "I'm not too familiar with the phrase..." he laughed, blushing slightly. For the...it had to be the fifth time that night, he knew he should be scared. But for whatever insane reason...he couldn't. He trusted Alfred, maybe it was his eyes, he didn't know. There was just /something/. "A shower sounds good." he smiled slightly, Watching Alfred as he left the room. Arthur walked over to the bathroom, not the one in his bedroom, god he couldn't go there yet. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it, head-in-hands. This was going to be impossible...

Alfred half-smiled, looking at the impromptu fort, almost regretting that he was going to take it down. He stacked the books and tucked them in their shelves, alphabetical by author, and crisply folded the sheets, setting them on one end of the couch. He rearranged the chairs, swept up any crumbs, and rinsed the glass bottles before depositing them in the recycle bin. Satisfied that the place looked more or less as it had pre-Arthur, he settled on the couch to wait.

Arthur stripped himself, looking back towards the door to double-check the lock. It was more of a nervous habit then anything else. He moved over to the shower, running the water for a minute before adjusting the temperature and stepping in. "Stupid, stupid Arthur..." he murmured to himself, running some shampoo through his hair, sighing. He was safe, for now. No matter how many times Alfred warned him. Sure, he took heed of it, but still... There was something...some part of him _drawn _to the older man... He shook his head, stepping out of the shower. Arthur looked around the room, grabbing a towel and drying off. 'Damnit...' he rolled his eyes, picking up his dirty clothes and putting them back on. It was just like him to forget to bring in clean clothes... Whatever. Arthur opened the door, stepping out of the small room.

Alfred looked up at the sound of the door opening, a slight frown on his face when he saw that Arthur was in the same clothes. "You're just gonna stink again," he quipped, a grin on his face. He felt better, more relaxed and himself now that he had had a break from the other. He made a mental note that it was good to take Arthur in small doses. He then made another mental note to never think of the words 'taking' and 'Arthur' in the same sentence.

"Anyway, scoot. I'm gonna take a shower too, and I can't do that with you hanging in the doorway." He rolled his stiff shoulders and sighed. "I'm gonna go out for a couple of hours tonight. I'm visiting a... an acquaintance who's in the hospital at the moment." He jerked his head towards the box on the kitchen table that read 'BOGGLE' in large letters. "Feel free to look around and get used to the place. Oh, come 'ere a sec." He walked over, taking hold of Arthur's wrist - so thin his hand closed easily around it - and tugging him into the master bedroom, giving him a light push so that he sat with a small thump onto Alfred's California king. The bed was large enough to comfortably sleep two people without them coming close to touching, but he wasn't about to put that to the test. "Sleep here tonight."

Arthur rolled his eyes, finally easily avoiding sticking his tounge out. He didn't even come close this time! "I'll change into something cleaner. I must have something..." he laughed weakly.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly, moving away from the door. "

Arthur followed the older man into the room, not as if he had a choice, he was...trapped by the man. He blushed at this. Trapped...fuck. Anyways. He breathed in sharply as Alfred pushed him down, making a slight suprised gasp as he hit the bed. "Are you sure...? I can sleep on the couch, it's no problem at all..."

"No," Alfred drawled. "I told you to sleep here twice because I'm not sure. Sure I'm sure, man, just do it. Might as well get used to my bed anyway." He bit his tongue. It was supposed to be a joke, but considering his behavior today it could be taken as a threat. He hoped Arthur took it as a joke.

"Anyway," he said gruffly. "There's a washer and a dryer in the room by the balcony, but we can do laundry tomorrow. I'm sure I've got something that you can wear for the night that won't look like you've wrapped yourself in a circus tent." He opened his dresser drawer, picking out a black t-shirt with a distressed print of the American flag. He tossed it on the bed, where it was soon joined by a pair of drawstring sweatpants. "They'll probably be big on you, but it shouldn't be a problem if it's just for the night."

Arthur smirked slightly, looking up at the older nation. "Hmm. Alright, I may as well get used to it." his eyes shining with amusement. "Anyways." he turned away from Alfred, realizing just how stupid teasing America could quickly prove to be.

He coughed, shaking the slight blush off his face as he caught the clothes. "Okay, thank you." he smiled softly, looking down at the shirt and pants in his hands. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

Alfred inwardly groaned. Alright, so Arthur hadn't been scared. That's a plus. But he'd teased right back. Negative, captain, this ship's going down.

He glanced up, caught that soft smile and it pleased him so much that he wanted to break something. "...'kay. You get changed. I'll wash up and head out. Be back soon, so try not to set the place on fire, alright?"

"Alright..." Arthur agreed, looking over at the American. "Thanks for letting me stay..." he began. "Even though I'd be fine on my own."

Arthur nodded, sitting up and pushing himself off the bed, just wondering how everything would turn out.

"Really, 'cause being evicted doesn't sound like fine to-" Alfred caught his breath, because Arthur - clean and damp and in wrinkled clothes - smelled like -him- now. His own shampoo and soap, and it felt like he'd marked him. A swell of possessiveness rose within him and he took a step back, because really, if Arthur was close enough to smell it was high time to beat a hasty retreat. It did not escape him how utterly insane he was acting, but he'd been pushed out of his comfort zone so many times already that day that he couldn't bring himself to care. "You're welcome," he finished lamely, abruptly turning on his heel and walking into the bathroom, shutting the door with a resounding click.

Arthur watched Alfred, frowning slightly. What the hell had he done wrong? Alfred seemed /mad/... "I'm sorry...?" he mumbled to himself, watching the older man leave the room. 'alright then...' he thought to himself, flopping back down on the bed. He tugged the pants up, the waist didn't fit too well...but it was a clean pair of pants.

Alfred turned the water on scaldingly hot, pulling off his clothes and hissing as he stepped under the spray. He hesitated only a second before bracing himself against the slick tiles, jerking off fast and hard, trying not to think about the slim teen in his bedroom and feeling guilty that he had to try. Arthur had this way of getting under his skin.

He washed up quickly, soap and shampoo and fuck all if he didn't smell just like -him- now, but he was less irritated about it than he would have been. Another mental note in his growing collection: life is better after a good wank. At the end of the month he'd probably have enough notes to fill a book, if not a library. He wrapped himself in his bathrobe and grabbed his clothes, striding into his bedroom and dumping them in the hamper.

Arthur shook his head, laying down and crossing his legs. He'd obviously have to be more careful...about everything he did. He leaned his head against the pillow and inhaled. He blushed faintly, the pillow smelled like...Alfred. Well, the whole house did, it was his.

Alfred glanced up after opening his bathroom door, flushing slightly at the sight of Arthur in his clothes, in his -bed-. "Going to sleep already?" he asked, pulling out a fresh change of clothing. "And I'm changing," he added matter-of-factly, turning his back to the teen and giving him three seconds to look away before dropping the robe, then tugging on a pair of boxers. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on socks, then jeans, a form-fitting t-shirt and a light coat. His wallet and keys disappeared into his pockets before he turned back to face the bed. "See you in a few."

Arthur leaned up on his elbows, eyes wide and relatively innocent. "I'm not going to sleep..." yeah. Like he was going to get to sleep anytime soon. Arthur then blushed a deep red, really not expecting the older man to just strip in front of him. He turned away, a furious shade of red, avoiding any eye contact with the tall blonde- or body contact. He shifted nervously away. "Y-yeah. I'll see you..." he trailed off, looking anywhere but at Alfred.

Alfred smirked. "Hey, I warned you," he said in a voice that sounded almost like the sing-song teasing of grade schoolers. There was a belated tinge of self-consciousness about the network of scars on his back - battle wounds, mostly - but he shrugged it off. It's not like it mattered. He reached down and brushed his fingertips lightly over Arthur's bare ankle in a silent farewell and left the room, snagging the board game and his motorcycle helmet on his way out.

Arthur's furious blush didn't let up, even as he watched the older man leave. God. Damnit. He buried his face in the pillow nearest him, tossing it across the room as he found Alfred's smell just too strong. It wasn't a bad smell. It was just...gah. He didn't _know_, damnit. He sat up and slid off the bed, pulling the drawstrings tighter around his waist. He left the room, walking through the living room to the door that led to the balcony. The young boy sat down at the edge, dangling his kegs through the railing, and leaning his head against the bars. "What the fuck am I going to do...?" he thought out loud, biting his lip.

* * *

Ninety minutes later heralded the sound of the deadbolt sliding, and Alfred walking through the door, dumping his game, helmet, wallet, and keys on the kitchen table and slinging his coat over the back of a chair. He glanced around for ... See moreArthur and, not seeing him, walked over to the couch, shedding his clothes along the way. He'd pick them up tomorrow. His hands paused at the band of his stars-and-stripes boxers, and he opted to leave them on. No sense in giving the poor kid a heart attack if he chanced to wake up before Alfred did. He flipped off the lights before stretching out on the couch, tugging a sheet over himself and settling comfortably in for the night.

* * *

Arthur finally stood up, over an hour later, coughing slightly. Maybe sitting outside wasn't a fabulous idea...he stood up, leaning against the railway. He'd make it through this...somehow. The boy turned around, sliding open the glass door and stepping back inside. He stopped just short of the doors threshold, noticing Alfred's form on the couch. Was he...sleeping yet?

Alfred had, in fact, been lightly dozing, but the sound of the door opening snapped him out of it. He sat up a little, slipping his glasses on and glancing over to the glass doors leading to the balcony. "Arthur?" he asked, his voice husky from sleep. "What're you doing? And close the damn door, I'm not paying to heat the outside."

"I-I'm sorry." the boy stuttered. "I didn't mean to wake you up." he shook his head, looking away as he stepped in and shut the door. "I just was...sitting outside. Thinking." he mumbled.

Guilt washed through Alfred. "Damn it, Arthur, I wasn't being serious. Like leaving the door open for a minute would even matter. Wasn't really asleep anyway. C'mere." He opened one arm in a beckoning gesture, his sleep-addled mind taking a second before it caught up with his actions, and he wondered idly if Arthur would actually come to him or not.

Arthur smiled sheepishly. "Of course..." he trailed off. "Ah..." he studied the older mans face for a second, regarding his open arms calculatingly. He seemed...tired. He didn't pose a threat...did he? Arthur sighed, stepping lightly towards the man. "Y-yes?" he couldn't help but stutter.

Alfred sighed, annoyed and pleased all at once. Arthur was a good kid. He really deserved something better than this. He caught Arthur's hands in each of his own, holding them gently. "Jesus, you're cold," he murmured. "How the hell'd you get so cold, it's the middle of summer. I swear it was warmer than this outside."

"It's not too warm..." Arthur murmured, glad it was so dark so that the older man couldn't see him blush. He coughed once, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Shit," Alfred said softly. "Don't tell me you went and got yourself sick." He reached up and put a warm, heavy hand on the back of Arthur's neck, tugging him down until their foreheads touched. The gesture was one of affection and concern, for once lacking the overbearing desire that had be itching at him all day. He sighed with relief. "You don't feel like you've got a fever," he said, releasing the teen with the slightest reluctance. The closeness had felt nice.

Arthur looked down at Alfred and smiled softly. See, this was why he didn't think of Al as a threat... "That's good..." he agreed. "Can't have me getting sick, right?" he joked weakly.

"S'right," Alfred slurred, feeling sleep start to creep up on him again. "Hey, come -here-," he grumbled, tugging at Arthur, obviously wanting him to get on his knees. Standing up while Alfred was lying down was just too damn far away.

Arthur glanced skeptically at the taller man, exhaling heavily. "What is it...?" he asked softly, resting his arm on the couch next to Alfred.

Alfred grinned a little, reaching out and cupping the side of Arthur's face with one hand, stroking his thumb across his cheek. "Yeah, you're a good kid," he murmured, a tinge of regret in his voice. "I'm sorry. I was all over the place today, and I was hard on you. I'm sorry, for that." He sighed, letting his fingers trail down Arthur's face as he dropped his hand and turned his head away. "Get some sleep."

Arthur looked into the man's eyes, his own green eyes soft, yet calculating. "Alright.. thank you for letting me stay, Alfred." he replied, bowing his head slightly as he stood up, face still a but flushed. "Sleep well, sweet dreams." he finished, casting one last glance towards the older man as he padded through the apartment to the room he was given for the night.

"Yeah," Alfred muttered to the empty room, covering his eyes with one arm. He vaguely wondered if he'd stolen Arthur's fever, his own face felt so hot. "Good night."

* * *

**((See that button down there? The one with green letters? Click it, please, and share your approval/flames with me. 3))**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: WOAH. An update. I'm just posting this now, it's been ready for a while. ;; Really, I'm stalling on my school essay...so.  
I apologise if the formatting isn't wonderful, I did this really quick. Feel free to tell me of any mistakes, and as always, I love love love reviews. 2  
-Miria. 3**

**

* * *

**Alfred's internal clock woke him at 0600 sharp, like it did every day that he didn't set an alarm. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, raising one hand to shield them from the weak rays of morning sunlight filtering in from the balcony.  
It took him half a second to remember where he was, and the other half to remember why. He groaned and flopped back against his couch, unwilling to face the day.

Five minutes later had him walking out of the hallway bathroom, face washed and teeth brushed. He filled the electric kettle and switched it on before walking over and folding the sheets he'd used the night before. He started fixing two cups of coffee before he thought better of it and pulled out the stash of tea he'd never admit to having. Woe betide Arthur if he dared mention it.

Alfred considered waking the boy up, but figured that it was a Sunday, so he might as well sleep in, at least until breakfast was ready. He busied himself frying some eggs and starting up some toast, humming 'The Star Spangled Banner' under his breath. A little corny, but hey, it was nearly his birthday.

Arthur finally opened his eyes, as he was never able to sleep later than 6:40 anyway.  
After the brief moment of panic waking up somewhere besides your own bed, he leaned back and groaned.

"Goddamnit..." he blushed, pushing all thoughts of a dream he may, or may not have had out of his head. Why why why did he stay? Oh, right. Because for some inane reason, he /wanted/ to.

The British boy sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and got off the bed, fixing the drawstrings of the pants for the third time since he put them on. "Lets go." he murmured to no one in particular, opening the door to face the day.

Alfred glanced up from where he'd been setting the table, plates piled high with food and a steaming cup of coffee ( black, with plenty of sugar - strong and sweet ) opposite of a hot cup of English breakfast tea. A small creamer and sugar dish sat beside it.

"Great timing," Alfred said, flashing Arthur a grin. "I was just about to come get you." He was dressed in the clothes he'd stripped off last night - they'd only been worn for a couple of hours, after all, and he rather liked looking rumpled around the edges.

Arthur blinked twice, looking towards the table, as he wandered towards Alfred. "Good morning..." he smiled faintly, waiting to be offered a seat. He might as well be polite, right?noticing Alfred's clothes, he looked down at himself. He hadn't changed...but no matter.

Alfred looked really good, though.-...no. He didn't look good. At all. Arthur blushed faintly, and hopefully, that wasn't too noticeable.

Alfred smiled, idly wondering why Arthur wasn't sitting down.  
He looked even younger in the over-sized clothing, and Alfred's gaze lingered for just a second on an exposed hipbone peeking out from under the bunched tee, the sweatpants dipping low. He flushed and jerked his gaze away - (he would -not- scare the boy again today) - focusing on setting the forks and spoons just so.  
Even Miss Manners wouldn't have been able to find a fault with his table setting.

"Well, sit down already. Let's eat. I've got some orange juice and milk in the fridge, too, if you want something cold to drink."

"Alright, thank you..."Arthur smiled, smirking slightly as he noticed a faint flush on Alfred's face. If /he/ was going to get all flustered over Al, it was only fair it should happen to him too.  
"Mm, this is good..." he laughed, smelling the tea in front of him. Then,  
"You...have tea?" he asked, teasing.

Alfred flushed darker. "Shut it, whelp," he growled, but there was absolutely no menace in his voice. "If you'd rather drink coffee, I've got plenty of that. Now sit down, shut up, and eat your breakfast." Alfred grinned and sat down himself, spearing a sausage on his fork and starting to eat in earnest.

"Your wish is my command." the boy replied sarcastically.  
"And no, tea is much better. Much much better." Arthur looked around the room, happily eating the food in front of him. "So? Have anything planned for the day?"

Alfred stretched in his chair, half of his plate already demolished. He hasn't gotten out of the habit of eating quickly yet, unused to the long stretches of time he had these days. "Not really," he replied. "Gotta clean out your room a bit, maybe do a bit of shopping. Order you a new bed." He shrugged one shoulder carelessly. "Other than that... maybe go for a walk and finish a video game or two. They're due soon."

He fiddled with an egg on his plate. He broke the yolk and watched it bleed yellow all over. He sighed. "Hey, I-" He hesitated, ears burning red, but he stubbornly plowed on. "I hope you don't think I'm some..." He paused again, this time searching for the appropriate description. "...violent, deranged, undersexed, borderline-pedo creeper."  
He winced. "Not that that would be terribly off the mark, all things considered. I'm just-" He cut himself off yet again, because what was there to say there? 'Tired'? It was true, but not really an excuse. 'Lonely'? He was, but he wasn't about to admit it. 'Dragging you into a two-hundred-and-fifty-year long, one-sided love story that only got more complicated as he realized they had been through so much, and an impossible amount of time had passed between them, and he still couldn't find a place with Arthur.  
Waaah, little baby wanna cry?  
He set his jaw. "No, there's no excuse. Sorry, I don't know why I even brought it up."

"Ah...I'm not really../good/ at games, but I'll try!" Arthur laughed slightly, sipping at his tea. "But yes, that all sounds fine to me."

Now, Arthur looked up from his plate-the American's cooking /was/ good- and turned towards the older blonde. '..violent, deranged, undersexed, borderline-pedo creeper.', he considered, looking with wide eyes at Alfred. A million thoughts ran through his head. 'Violent'? Well...maybe? He scared the shit out of him yesterday. But..no. He had a point. There was a reason for it. In a way, it was protecting the younger boy. Deranged? No? Unless there was a part of Alfred he really, really hadn't seen yet. As for undersexed...well, Arthur wouldn't know, but by /looking/ at him, he didn't seem to be someone who would have any trouble at all getting action...And lastly, borderline-pedo. Well, Arthur was younger than him. By what, four years? But he was just living with him. They had no relationship, or sexual interaction whatsoever...Arthur blushed lightly at the thought, pushing it far, far out of him mind. In fact, he completely disregarded the last bit.

"No...It's okay. A-and I don't." he shook his head, averting his eyes from the other's peircing blue ones. "I mean, you scared me yesterday." he laughed slightly, finally meeting his gaze. "But you're not /bad/." he begun. "I can just tell that...I don't think you're going to hurt me, tell me if I'm wrong." he laughed weakly.

Alfred flinched, the weight of Arthur's trust settling on his shoulders. It felt heavy, and he squirmed under it.  
"No," he sighed, voice soft and rough. "You're not wrong."  
He could so easily be. Alfred was strong. He knew that if he ever wanted to he could probably break any and every bone in Arthur's body one-handed. He was no stranger to killing or tort- interrogation; bending people to his will. Hell, he was -America-, he could blow up the whole fucking world.

What was worse, was that he felt like even if he did his best, he would hurt the kid on accident. He felt sick. Why did he ever think this was a good idea?

He glanced up from his plate, and oh- Arthur had a small smudge of ketchup and egg yolk on his lip, and before he could think about it he was already reaching over the table to wipe it off. He froze, inches away, and awkwardly retracted his hand, glancing over at the consoles. "Got something on your mouth, there," he said, clearing his throat. He -had- to stop -touching- him. "How do you feel about playing 'Left 4 Dead?"

Arthur looked away, nodding his head slightly. "Well...i-if you ever want me out of the house, for /any/ reason, just tell me, please. I Don't want to mess anything up." he responded quietly. "  
Maybe I sould rephrase? I Don't think you'll /intentionally/ hurt me, right?" Arthur asked, making an effort to keep his voice from shaking, and doing quite well, he'd say so himself.

He didn't think Alfred would hurt him... But you could never be too safe.

Finally, he simply exhaled, smiling softly. "Thanks." he responded, bringing his hand up to wipe the egg off his lip. "I wouldn't mind learning..I've never tried though," he laughed.

Alfred froze again, before he flushed darkly. He was irrationally furious; at Arthur, for being able to read him so easily, and at himself, for being so transparent. He needed to either shape up or figure out Arthur's mind-reading skills or he was going to -fucking-... "Right," he agreed, voice low and tight. He would need to buy a new fork. He could feel the twisted metal in his hand. Jesus, no wonder he was so easy to read.

Watching Alfred, Arthur began to think that being polite and quiet was maybe not the best course of action in this house...maybe being more aggresive would work? It would make Alfred back off...that, or make him furious. He shook his head, scooting his chair back. "If you want me to go as early as today, I can leave..."

Alfred jerked his head up, something like panic fluttering in his chest. "No," he said. "Don't. You can leave if that's what you want, but I'm not going to chase you off."  
That, at least, he knew was true. He stood abruptly and started to clear away his breakfast, wrapping the plate in saran wrap and setting it in the fridge on top of the pizza. There were a lot of leftovers, he noted. "Look, I-... I'm going to go for a walk, to clear my head."  
God, he felt pathetic.  
"I'm sorry, it's not your fault, I'm just-"  
Tired.  
Lonely.  
In love with the past.  
"...not used to this yet."  
He didn't wait for a response, but grabbed his wallet and keys and was out the door.

Arthur simply watched the older nation as he got up to leave the table. "I'm not in a hurry to leave..." he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "I just don't want to mess up your life." the younger boy responded, playing with the fork in front of him. He watched Alfred walk to the door, seemingly in a hurry. But he understood... and maybe it would be best for him to leave.

Sighing softly, he got up from the table himself, picking up the scattered dishes, and walked to the sink. The least he could do was be of some help, right?, he thought, running the warm water, and beggining to wash the dishes.

Alfred finally slowed down after walking around the city restlessly for the better part of an hour. He tried to fight the feeling that he was running away, but was unsuccessful. Mostly because it was true. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, glancing around. Might as well get some things done. He smiled wryly as he noticed the tall, blue and yellow sign in the distance. IKEA, huh? Ask, and you shall receive.

He had originally intended to get a twin-sized bed, but ended up with a queen. There was more than enough space for it, and he couldn't help but get a nagging feeling that, the more comfortable he made Arthur, the longer he would stay. It was stupid, but he listened to it anyway. Besides, he reasoned, throat constricting a little, he wasn't going to keep the boy isolated the entire time he was living there, and he might want to have people over.

His feet felt impossibly heavy as he stepped into the elevator, punching the buttons. The closer he got to his flat, the worse it got. He was more than half expecting to find it empty, and felt a little stupid for ordering the bed before he was even sure Arthur would stay. He took a deep breath and opened his door.

Arthur spun around as he heard the door opening, obviously not yet used to having people around. "Wh-? Ah..." he trailed off, turning the faucet off as the older country walked in, wiping his hands on a dishtowel he had set near the sink, the dishes were done anyways.

"I hope you don't mind, I did your dishes..." Arthur smiled slightly, placing his hands on the edge of the sink, and leaning on it, facing Alfred. "I mean, not like you'd mind some help, right?"

Alfred stood stock-still in the doorway, looking at him, trying not to let the relief he felt show on his face. Not that it mattered, since Arthur could read his fucking mind anyway. Though if he actually could and was -still- here then he was more depraved than even Alfred was.  
"Hey," he breathed, leaning over to untie his laces. "Yeah. Um. Thanks." He straightened and toed the shoes off, stepping into the apartment proper.

Arthur smirked slightly. He didn't know exactly what the older boy was thinking, but unless he was mistaken, Alfred was..relieved somehow.

"It's no problem." he shrugged. "I needed some busy work, to take my mind off things anyways." the boy replied, looking towards the floor. "How was your walk?"

"It was fine."  
Alfred walked through the room and into the living room, standing by the couch, unsure of what to do with himself. "I got you a bed. They're gonna deliver it tomorrow morning." He glanced over at Arthur.  
"...Hey. I've got a favor to ask. It's fucking weird and gay as shit, and it won't bother me if you say no."

"O-oh?" Arthur replied, smiling slightly. "Thank you, Alfred..." he responded, bowing his head slightly. "Do you need me to pay you back?"

Now, Arthur walked over to the table, glancing across the room at America. "Yeah? What is it...?" he asked, trailing off suspiciously. A gay-as-shit favour? This should be interesting.

Alfred ignored the first question - hadn't he already told Arthur he didn't want his damn money? - and sat on the couch, opening an arm.  
"Come here. I don't want you to say or do anything, really, I just want to... can I just hold onto you for a minute?" He flushed. That had to be one of the stupidest, gayest things he'd ever said in his life.

Arthur looked over at the taller, stronger...alltogether /bigger/ man, and blushed slightly. It was... Well, he wanted to, there was no question. But Alfred had been saying so many things lately, mostly concentrating around not trusting people so easily. He swallowed, looking over at America, biting his lip.  
"I-is there a particular reason...?"

Alfred smiled wryly, dropping his arm and turning to look out the glass doors. "No. I just wanted to, is all. Never mind."

Arthur smiled softly. He wasn't quite sure what was going on...Alfred was maybe thinking of him as a replacement for someone...? In any case, he sighed quietly, not sure where this was leading. He walked over to the couch, sitting down lightly next to Alfred, still slightly flushed.  
"I-I don't really mind, you know..."

Alfred leaned back, regarding Arthur soberly for a moment before reaching out. He didn't say anything, just maneuvered them so that their legs were stretched out on the couch, Arthur between his own thighs and the smaller back pressed against his chest. He curled his arms around the slight body, tightly but in such a way that suggested that he'd let go if Arthur desired it. He pressed his forehead to Arthur's shoulder and just... breathed. God. Yes. Far more than even the persistent desire that pulsed underneath his skin, this was exactly what he'd needed.

Arthur blushed heavily- thank god Alfred couldn't see his face- and exhaled. He was a bit nervous, but that wasn't the fault of the man currently holding him. It was just... a bit more contact than he could ever really remember having. It wasn't entirely unpleasant though, and he could feel himself relaxing in the man's arms, closing his eyes slightly.

Alfred sighed, relaxed. He'd stayed like that for a minute or more, just holding Arthur, just waiting for him to break that spell and being pleasantly surprised when he didn't. He knew he should move soon, before he started to tense again and want to listen to the desire to pull and bite and touch, but he was just so damned -comfortable-. He turned his head to press his face against the crook of Arthur's neck, memorized the way he smelled, like sweat and soap and boy.  
"Thanks," he murmured damply against the skin there, signalling the end of whatever this was, but he did not move to let go, unwilling to be the one to break contact.

"It's nothing..."Arthur whispered softly, moving his hand to rest it on the larger one around his waist. He paused, however, attempting to gauge how horrible of an idea that was. Fuck it... he thought to himself, going ahead and doing it anyways. He'd only stay like that for a moment longer, he swore.

Alfred groaned softly, muffled against Arthur's neck. Fuck. It was beginning to feel hot and stifling, like he was on fire. He laced his fingers with the smaller ones that rested on top of his hand, pressing his palm firmly against the boy's stomach.  
Fuck.  
He caved into temptation - just a little, just the tiniest bit because how much could that hurt? - and grazed his teeth against the tendon in Arthur's neck, relishing in the boy's reaction. He sighed, softly, shakily.  
Alright, enough is enough.  
The man leaned back, slowly letting go and raising his hands next to his head as if in surrender, his smile slow and lazy in spite of his erratic heartbeat. "Alright, now, up you get."

Arthur could feel his shoulder tense, and he opened his eyes abruptly at the hot breath on his neck. He bit his lip to prevent a little gasp from escaping, knowing that could get him into serious trouble. His face was burning up, he couldn't help but notice as he heard the older man's words. "Alright, now, up you get."  
He raised himself up with somewhat shaky knees- what the hell? Why was he shaking? And moved to sit on the opposite side of Alfred, leaning back against the arm rest.

Alfred sighed softly as Arthur moved, both in relief and with the ache of loss. Alright, so he'd lapsed a little at the end, there, but Jesus fuck, who wouldn't have? And he hadn't -really- done anything.  
More importantly, the embrace had done what he'd hoped it would. Steady and unforced, it had settled him in a way, made him feel more grounded, anchored... more human, than he had since Arthur had come into his life yesterday.

"Alright," he began conversationally, glancing over at the TV. "You do at least know that 'Left 4 Dead' is about zombies, right?"

Arthur closed his eyes with a slow intake of breath, succesfully calming himself slightly. "Left 4 Dead..." he frowned. "I've heard of it. I mean, I don't really know the plot..." the boy responded, the blush slowly fading from his face.

Alfred grinned. "Well, it's a first person shooter. Not a hell of a lot of plot, but basically..." he explained the bare bones of the story and game play, handing Arthur an X-box controller and flipping the television on.  
"You're probably gonna suck at first, but that's okay. I'm the hero, and I'll save you!" Alfred winked, teasingly.

"It doesn't sound like anything I'd be awfully good at..." he laughed slightly, smiling over at Alfred.  
"Oh, good to know I have a hero." the boy replied, shaking his head.

But really, Alfred didn't know how close to the truth that was. If he hadn't been able to stay with him, he'd either be living in an abandoned house, or living and working the streets... In any case, the older nation /had/ saved him.

"Well," Alfred said slowly. "It doesn't really matter if you're good at it, so long as you have fun. It's not like I care if we lose. Let's give it a try, and let me know if you wanna play something else, 'kay?" He leaned over and ruffled the smaller boy's hair, affectionate. "I was kind of on a zombie kick, so I've also got Resident Evil 4, but if you get sick of gory head shots I've got..." He checked the cases. "Oh, well, Bikini Zombie Slayers is also gory, but it's got a half-naked chick in a cowgirl outfit, if that suits your fancy." He laughed, glancing over the others. "Um... The Sims 2 and Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles. -Don't- make fun of me," he warned, mock-serious.

Arthur couldn't help but laugh at this. "I've played Final Fantasy, why would I make fun of you for it?" he looked over at the games, eyes settling on the 'Bikini Zombie Slayers'. "I mean, to each his own." he smiled wryly, pointing at the game. "Thanks, but that kind of stuff isn't exactly my thing..." The one thing most games seemed to have in common was the gore, a fact that would usually unsettle the slight boy.

"Yeah? Alright, then." Alfred gave him an easy shrug. "The game play for the bikini game really wasn't great anyway. Hrm. Let's do one round of L4D and then play one of these, 'kay?" He gestured towards the last two games he'd pointed out. "When we're done with that we can start up a load of laundry and set up your bedroom. You probably want to change into your own clothes, huh?" He glanced at the way his sweatpants clung precariously to Arthur's hips before averting his eyes.  
"Er. Or we could start the laundry first."

"Alright, you've got to teach me though." Arthur joked, picking up the controller and running a hand through his hair, sticking his tounge out.  
Oh, fuck. He looked over at Alfred to make sure he hadn't seen. That was a habit he would /have/ to break soon... "Yeah, I guess I could." he responded. Truthfully, he kind of /liked/ wearing the ol-...wait. He did NOT like to wear the older man's clothes at all...

Alfred said nothing, just looked at Arthur's mouth for a moment. His gaze flicked from the boy's lips to his wide eyes and back to the screen. "So," he said evenly, the faint flush on his cheeks the only thing out of place. "Guess that means games first, huh?" He nodded his head at the controller in Arthur's hands. It had to be illegal for someone so young to have such a sexy mouth. In fact, -wasn't- it illegal? Well, age limitations were kind of ineffectual on countries, but fuck...

"Yeah, games first." he smiled over at Alfred, noticing the strange look on his face. "Unless...you to do the laundry?" he cocked his head to the side slightly. "I can, if you want." Arthur would do whatever Alfred asked at the moment, things seemed to be going very well between them so far, and he'd love to keep it that way.

"Nah," Alfred said with a smile. "You can wear whatever you want. Within reason. Start goin' around in a bikini cowgirl outfit and I won't be held responsible." he winked, starting up the game console.  
"What character do you wanna be? There's a kinda wimpy black dude, a chick who's actually wearing clothes, a grumpy old military guy, and this badass hick sorta dude who reminds me of Jayne from 'Firefly'."

Arthur expertly resisted the urge to stick his tongue out, instead just making a weird face. "Yeah, I wouldn't be suprised if you had a cowgirl fetish anyways." he teased. But after thinking for a minute...that didn't seem unreasonable, for Alfred. Damn. "Do any of them fight close-range?" he asked, displaying his knowledge of role-playing games, but definitely not for first person shooters.

"Sure, most of them fight close-range, 'specially if you alert the horde. Then they're just all the fuck over you and you'd better hope you can kill them all fast before they rip you to pieces." A pause, and Alfred looked thoughtful for a moment. "And I wouldn't say I have a cowgirl -fetish-, per se, but I think they're cute." He leaned towards Arthur, smirking. "Are you saying you're interested in knowing what my fetishes are, Arthur?" He drawled out the boy's name, letting it linger on his tongue like something tangible.

"Okay, good." Arthur replied, nodding. From the few games like this he played, he knew he was much, much better at close-contact stuff than long range. He leaned back, blushing slightly as his eyes widened. "I-I didn't say that! Why the hell would I want to turn you on anyways?" he replied quickly, obviously defensive.

...Although, if Alfred's usual reactions were anything...the tongue stud was definitely a turn-on.

Alfred smirked. "I was just kidding~. I didn't actually think you'd be interested." His smile turned slightly sharp. "And even if you were, you'd probably regret knowing." Not that the boy would have to try particularly hard to get his attention, he thought snidely at himself. He was practically jumping the poor kid's bones if he even moved wrong.

He rolled his shoulders and sighed. "Alright, most of them are close-range, but there's this boss-type zombie called a 'smoker' and he attacks from high places with his... tongue, I think? Anyway, then you're fucked and you just have to hope that a teammate saves you." He punched a couple of buttons, and the opening started. Since Arthur hadn't answered the character question he'd just put himself as Bill and Arthur as Zoey. If his experience with this sort of game play were any indication, he'd be a damsel in distress anyway.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. That was the smile again. The slightly dangerous one. He knew he shouldn't push him, but he couldn't help it.  
"What's that supposed to mean?" he murmured, his eyes transfixed on the opening cutscene. "I'll be able to take a boss, don't worry." he smiled, attempting to sneak a cocky tone into his voice. Oh, wait. He almost always had that tone.

"What do you think it's supposed to mean?" Alfred crooned, low and quiet. "It means don't push it, kid, because there are some things you can't back out of. I'd hate to go back on my promise of not hurting you, but in this case, you'd be asking for it, wouldn't you?" His smile showed teeth.

He abruptly turned back to the screen - the game itself was starting. He wished he'd never brought the subject up at all. He'd be so close to acting normal, the way he usually did when he didn't have Arthur - or anyone, for that matter - in his life. "Anyway," he said airily. "Who said I'm worried? You can be as lousy of a shot as you want - there's still me and two computer-players to save your sorry ass. Just don't go startling a witch, alright?"

Arthur's eyes widened momentarily. Oh. That didn't sound too good. Well, whatever... He sighed quietly, looking back to the television, attempting to avoid eye contact with the older man again. Right. He almost forgot how scary the guy was. Whatever it was, it apparently wasn't a nice type of fetish. Well, he'd probably never find out, so it was okay. At the same time as thinking this, he regretted mentioning it. Things were going pretty well...

"A witch?" he asked lamely. Damn. Now, he was going to have even more trouble focusing.

"Yeah, a witch." Alfred's smile turned flat and cool. "I hate them. It's not even that they're hard to kill, but I just... don't like anything about them. Remember in the opening, that girl who was crying and then tried to rip through the door? That was a witch. You can hear them crying and wailing, sometimes when they're not even on the same floor as you. You can avoid them if you want - not the crying bit, but if you don't get too close and don't shoot at them or startle them in any way, they'll leave you alone. If you do, they'll jump on and rip right into you."

Arthur sat in silence for a minute, staring blankly at the television, shuddering slightly. "It sounds like the Re-Deads in 'The Legend of Zelda', you know?" he remarked. "O-of course, those scare me too..." he admitted, blushing slightly.

"Scare you, huh?" Alfred grinned at him. "If you're too chicken, we can play The Sims or something. More domestic and all that."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the older man, sneering at him. "No, I can do it. I'm not too scared...tch. Stupid." he mumbled under his breath.

"Good," Alfred said simply. "After all, I'm the hero, and you're my teammate. That makes you my sidekick, of course. And heroes have to be able to count on their sidekicks." He led his character around the room, collecting weapons and ammo and making sure Arthur was doing the same. "Ready? Let's go!" He grinned as Bill kicked open the door and they went running out into the streets.

"Right. Count on me..." Arthur mumbled, not too sure this would go well. Still, it never hurts to try.

Alfred began. "Okay, so... those are some zombies over there, but careful when you shoot at 'em, alright? They're right by... see how that car is blinking red? Means it's got an alarm that'll go off if you hit it, and that'll attract the horde." He scooted over a little and bumped his shoulder against Arthur's. "You're my partner, partner. All I care about is that you do it, alright? You don't have to worry about doing it well." He cocked a half-smile at him, before his attention was caught by the zombies on-screen. He efficiently shot them all to dust. "That's what I'm here for."

"Mm...okay." Arthur responded, more or less button-mashing, avoiding hitting the car Alfred had mentioned. He didn't do /well,/ but he had hit a few. "Fuck yes."

Alfred laughed, feeling rather relaxed and happy. Yeah, they were just a couple of guys, killing some zombies.  
It had the sweet, sepia-toned feeling of summer vacation. He wanted to throw an arm around Arthur's shoulders but knew that would disrupt the feeling, so he nailed a smoker that had caught Zoey from behind, instead. "Oh yeah, who's your hero now, sucka?"

"Tch. I already said you were." Arthur laughed lightly, shooting wildly around the screen. He didn't know what he was hitting, and he didn't care. He just felt good, sitting on a couch, playing video games with someone else. He wasn't alone, for the first time in...as long as he could remember.

"Well, never hurts to hear it again," Alfred said with a smile. "Oh, shit, that Boomer just puked on us. Look out, there's gonna be a fucking stampede!" He hit the buttons wildly, punching and shooting the horde of zombies off of him, snapping back some pain pills and jumping back into the fray.

Arthur pressed at the buttons, casting glances over at Alfred repeatedly. He pressed the center button on the controller, effectively pausing the game.  
"Um...Alfred, I just wanted to say thank you...for real." he inhaled nervously, not too sure why he was saying this now, or how the older would take it. "I don't care how long it is you let me stay, however long that is, you've kind of...prolonged my life." he watched the other man for any signs of reaction before continuing, running his hands through his shaggy hair. "I mean, if you didn't let me stay, I'd be living in some abandoned building, or like, living and working the streets..." he frowned, voicing his earlier thoughts. "So, I guess I just wanted to say thank you, and have you take this seriously." he finished, not 100% sure how good of an idea admitting all that was.

Alfred blinked, at first just puzzled as to why Arthur wanted to have a serious conversation -now-, in the middle of a zombie slaughterhouse. But he listened, steadfastly ignoring the sing-song mantra his heart had started pounded out all over again.

"Hey, now," he said softly, reaching out a hand and threading his fingers through Arthur's hair. "Didn't we just go over how I'm your hero? Twice, even." He smiled, slow and teasing, leaning over to bump his forehead against Arthur's. "You're welcome. Look, I know I'm hard to deal with and I have some... problems, with my temper and such. But. You're -England-, Arthur. I'm only here because of you, alright? So if you ever really need me, I'll be here for you. Alright?" He let go and leaned back, a slight flush creeping up his neck. "Geez, way to go getting me to spout some corny shit," he grumbled, blushing and glowering at the floor.

Arthur looked up, smiling weakly. "A-alright, I suppose." he blushed, jerking away at the sudden contact, though...he wasn't sure he /wanted/ to pull away. "Just, tell me before I make you mad, if at all possible?" he requested, picking at a loose thread on the borrowed pants he still had on. "I don't want to make you mad."

Alfred inwardly flinched when Arthur jerked away from his touch, but he said nothing and tucked his hands behind him. He really shouldn't have been surprised that Arthur disliked it, all things considered, and he should stop touching the boy so much, anyway. It wasn't being fair to him.  
"I wish I could give you a warning," Alfred said with a sheepish grin. "But I kinda tend to get mad all at once, see." He shifted his gaze from the loose thread Arthur was picking at to the window, where the sun was starting to make its way towards the horizon. They should probably start setting up Arthur's room, soon. "One thing that might help, though, is if you stopped reading my mind," he teased.

'Damnit damnit damnit. Why did I pull away..?' Arthur thought to himself, sighing, but masking it with a smile. "Stop...reading your mind?" he repeated, laughing quietly. "I do that?" Arthur followed America's gaze to the window, looking over the buildings to the orange sky. "Oh, and Alfred...I need to go out again tomorrow, there's one more thing I want to pick up from my apartment."

"That you do," Alfred said with a grin. "And without even realizing it? Now there's a talent. I realize it's pretty empty, but don't delve too deep, alright? Privacy and all that." He winked. Yep, private stuff, that, even if does involve you. He winced again. "Yeah? Alright. You've got your key, you don't need my permission or anything, although I'd appreciate a note and... d'you have a cell number?" He smiled. "Or was that you asking me to come with you? If you need help carrying anything."

He laughed brightly, shaking his head. "Hmm. I'm like, a super hero, in that case!" he considered for a moment. "Or Harry Potter. You know, I have mad skills I'm not even aware of!" The younger boy nodded, grabbing a piece of paper off the nearby coffee table and scribbling a number down. "That's my cell number." he replied. "A-and no, I don't really need help." he smiled weakly. "It's just my guitar. I thought about leaving it, but last night, I realized that I can't..."

Alfred stared at him, surprised. "You were going to leave it? But you want to be a musician, right? You can go get it now, if you want. I can start pulling my stuff from your room while you're gone."

He stood up, pulling out his mobile and tapping the number in, pressing 'call' and hanging up after one ring. "There, now you have my number, too. And as far as your 'mad skills' go... just promise me you'll get your head checked if you start talking to snakes." He smiled.

"Yeah, I do." he shrugged. "I wanted to start over...but I realised I can't leave that part of me behind." or, that picture still packed up in his box. But Alfred would never find out about that, he swore.

"Good, thanks." Arthur replied, smirking slightly as 'God Save the Queen' came softly from his pocket. He silenced the phone, standing up as well. "Alright, I'll go get it tonight, God forbid someone steal it." he finished, sliding his set of keys into the back pocket of the borrowed sweatpants, moving to the door. "Well, you can't deny, speaking Parseltongue would be cool!" he laughed, turning the door handle. "At least we have better books than you Americans." he called back, shutting the door behind him.

"You're a dork!" Alfred yelled at the closing door. "And 'Twilight's a classic!"

The gold-blonde grinned, shutting off the TV and console before heading into Arthur's room. His growling stomach reminded him that they had skipped lunch, but he shrugged it off, figuring that they'd be fine eating leftovers for dinner. He glanced around the room. It was fairly empty - there was a desk, filing cabinet, and a few bookcases that were only half full after his last purge. He decided that the desk could stay. He started moving the cabinet, cursing as he dinged the door frame with a corner of it. Damned things were so unwieldy. He got it settled into the office and then proceeded to move most of the books over. There wasn't an extra dresser, but Arthur didn't have too much in the way of clothes anyway, and bookcases would do just fine. Speaking of clothes... he considered opening Arthur's box, just to get laundry started before it got too late. But no, that would be nosy. He'd break any nose that poked into his personal life, so likewise he wouldn't pry where he wasn't wanted. He walked into the kitchen to start another pot of hot water for coffee and tea, whistling 'God Save the Queen' as he put away the morning's dishes and tossed the warped fork into the recycling.

Arthur returned to the apartment building fourty-five minutes later, a red guitar slung over his arm. He decided against the elevator, and took the stairs. A little exercise was good, wasn't it? He stopped when he came to floor thirteen, bringing out the key from his pocket. He stopped, however, hearing his anthem coming from inside the house. Alfred. Was whistling. 'God Save the Queen.' He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

He quietly unlocked the door and entered the apartment, stopping just inside the door. He reached over to the frame, rapping out 'shave and a haircut', wondering if Alfred would respond.

The whistling stopped. Almost immediately, 'two bits' rang rang out in the form of a teaspoon rapping against a cup, followed by Alfred's deep laughter. "Welcome back," he said, leaning over the kitchen table to look at him. His eyes were nearly sparkling. "You remembered."

The table was already set. Nothing grand - just the rest of the pizza on two separate plates, coffee and tea just like this morning. There was also a plate of sliced apples drizzled with caramel - almost healthy, but not quite.

"I was wondering if you would." he responded, shaking his head and smiling. He walked over to the couch, setting the guitar down carefully, as if it were his most prized possesion. And for good reason, it /was/.

He walked over to Alfred, studying the table. He couldn't help but laugh at the setup. "So, you give us apples. A perfectly healthy, nice, nutritional option. You then proceed to cover them in /caramel./" he raised his eyebrows, attempting not to smile.  
That was easier said than done. Alfred just looked so...happy. It was hard not to smile.

Alfred watched how Arthur handled the instrument, and found himself overwhelmingly glad that he'd gone back for it.

"Oh, shut it. They're not -covered-, they're just... sort of covered. Partial-nudity tends to be the most attractive, you know. Haven't you ever had sex with socks on?" He was teasing, mostly. He'd be honestly surprised if the boy said yes, after his earlier insistence that he wasn't a slut. Implying that Alfred was. Which he kind of was. In any case, he thought wearing socks during sex was a little uncomfortable.

Arthur rolled his eyes with a slight blush on his face, leaving the guitar, and sitting down.

"Ah...no? I have not ever had sex with socks on." didn't he already mention this to Alfred...?

"Well, it's not the best thing in the world, but I think you should try everything twice." Alfred grinned, biting into his first slice of pizza. "Hurry up and eat, or it's going to get -cold- and you're not going to -eat- it you picky little -snot-."

Arthur narrowed his eyes in confusion, looking across the table at Alfred, before picking up a slice of the pizza. "Why would having, or not having socks on, affect anything..?"

Alfred smiled around the last bit of his slice. "Well, it's just personal taste. I like being naked - it's comfortable. Have clothes on is so confining, don't you think? Especially when you're getting real into it, 'cause then you get all sweaty and hot. Plus socks aren't usually all that attractive to me." He glanced Arthur over, considering. "Though I think you'd look good in 'em if you had black trouser socks on that go up to your knees. And a shirt, maybe. Yeah, that'd be-..." He abruptly stopped talking, and took a long drink from his coffee mug.  
"Uh. Anyway. Your room's as cleared out as it's gonna get, so feel free to unpack your things."

Arthur blushed furiously, busying himself with a slice of pizza, pretending to ignore the nation. It's not like he was taking note of what he said. No way.

"Mm, thank you." he smiled, playing with the string on the tea bag. "And can I do that laundry soon?" he laughed. "I don't have much, maybe half a load?"

Alfred grinned at the teen's flushed cheeks, though he'd be more satisfied about it if he weren't blushing himself. He started tearing into his second slice. "Yeah, let's get it started right after dinner." His expression softened a little. "Wanna go shopping tomorrow? Let's pick you up something new."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred was officially a pervert. Oh well.

"God, you eat fast..." he remarked, halfway through his first piece. He looked over at Alfred, picking up his cup of tea. "Yeah, that sounds good. You're free tomorrow?"

Alfred glanced up from the last piece of crust he was about to cram into his mouth. "Yeah? Well, I'm a growing man! And old habits die hard." He smile, popping the bite into his mouth and washing it down with the last of his coffee. "Yep. I've got a meeting on Thursday and I'm gonna be gone for the weekend, but otherwise you're stuck with me all week. Sucks for you, huh?"  
He stood and snagged a cup, filling it with ice and water from the fridge dispenser. "Hey, it just occurred to me earlier today... is school out for the summer? 'Cause it'd be kind of mean of you to agree to getting good grades as your rent if you aren't being graded on anything at all." He grinned as he sat down again, plucking an apple slice and taking a bite.

Arthur's eyes widened. Maybe he was just abnormally small... "There's no way you're still growing. If so...you're a freak." he took a sip of the tea in front of him, finally finishing a piece of pizza. "Wait, why will you be gone all weekend?" he asked, resting his elbows on the table. Not like he cared, it would just be...boring without him around.

Arthur looked at the man incrediously. "Of course we're out for the summer." he burst out laughing. "I thought the grades-for-rent- thing was a joke!" he exclaimed, smiling brightly. "I can do something else though...housework?" he suggested, picking up an apple, frowning at the caramel dripping off it, onto his hand.

Alfred clutched his hands to his chest, feigning a melodramatic swoon. "Ah, such harsh words from my love are an arrow through my heart!" He regained his composure and shrugged lightly. "Just work. No wild parties while I'm away, y'hear?"

He chuckled a little. "Man, you need to figure out how to figure out when I'm joking and when I'm not. You've got homework for the summer, though, right? Do that. You can also make me your shitty scones for breakfast and kiss me goodnight, every other day." That last was said teasingly, though he had to swallow thickly at the sight of caramel dripping down the boy's fingers. Sometimes he could swear Arthur was tormenting him on purpose.

"You act like we're dating. Or married." Arthur remarked, raising an eyebrow at the melodramatic display. "But fine." he sighed. "I was going to throw the biggest party the city's ever seen, but since you said not to..." he trailed off, rolling his eyes. "No problem."

"Summer homework?" he frowned. "No. I had to read Romeo and Juliet, and The Merchant of Venice. But I've read those on my own." he commented in a bored tone, turning his head away slightly to lick the caramel off his fingers, before eating the apple.  
"Fine. You want my cooking, we'll start tomorrow." he smirked. "No promises you'll like it though." he laughed, cleverly avoiding the comment about the kiss.

"Really?" Alfred asked, surprised. Then maybe they should start. He snorted at himself. "I guess that would make me the abusive husband, huh." He grinned at Arthur. "We-e-ell... if it's the biggest party the city's ever seen, then I guess it's okay. None of these little wussy parties that just make a lot of mess and noise. If you're gonna do it, make sure it goes down in the books."

He made a slight face at the mention of Shakespeare. "Jesus, you're more of a nerd than I thought. But then again, he -is- your bigwig writer, so I guess it's to be expected."

Arthur had turned, but he could still see that damned little pink tongue making short work of the caramel.

Alfred sighed softly, almost pained. "I said 'shitty scones', I'm not expecting anything grand." He half-smiled. "And anyway, the scones and the kisses are a package deal, and a joke besides. 'Jam tomorrow' and all that. But if you want to cook, I won't say no to an English breakfast."

"I wouldn't go as far as to say /abusive/..." Arthur laughed. "Maybe...short-tempered." he shrugged.  
"Yeah, no. I'm not planning a party. God knows I'll just sleep and read when you're gone." he laughed. "But my glasses got smashed in the move. So I don't know..."

"You thought I was a nerd?" he raised an eyebrow. "I'm not, really...I just like Shakespeare." the boy smiled. "Physics books are fun too..." he began, finishing his explaination there as he realized he really wasn't helping his case.

"And my cooking isn't bad." he defended, leaning back in his chair. "Cooking, kisses, breakfast. It's all doable." he smiled. "Depends on my mood."

"Yep, definitely a nerd," Alfred said with a fond smile. "And you wear glasses? That's... unusual." He didn't really know that Arthur wore them. He wondered if it was a quirk of this time, or if Arthur had always worn them and he just never knew. That thought made him feel incredibly lonely, somehow. "We can get you a new pair tomorrow, while we're out."

Alfred blushed. Now that he thought about it as an actual possibility, he found that he hoped Arthur didn't kiss him after all. He wasn't sure he could take it. "Huh, alright. I think I'll get a frilly pink apron for my moody wife." He smirked. "Want one with a little unicorn appliqué?"

"I don't often wear them." he explained, having a weird feeling that Alfred was wondering. While they were talking he had eaten another whole slice of pizza, something he felt strangely proud of.

"Hey. I'm not really your fucking wife, stop daydreaming." he teased. Somewhere along the lines, he had to wonder if he should-could kiss Alfred. It...was something he, for some reason, found himself wanting... The boy shook his head almost imperceptibly. Maybe sometime. But not now.

Alfred opened his mouth to growl at Arthur to get out of his fucking head, please and thank you, when he realized that it was a fairly normal thing to deduce, from his comment. He clicked his mouth shut and looked down at the table, noticing that Arthur had cleaned his plate, which made him feel satisfied, despite having not made the meal himself.

"You're the one who said 'married couple', -honey-." He smirked. "Oh, but silly me, I haven't got you a ring. That would probably come before the apron, huh?"

"Anyway." Arthur began brightly, standing up. "I'll do the laundry I have now, if that's cool. You can have your clothes back." he laughed sheepishly, picking up his plate and moving it to the sink.

He walked over to the couch, picking up his guitar and giving it a little strum. "I'm definitely not your wife, Alfred." he replied, completely unfazed. "We're not even dating. And I don't need an apron." he blushed. "I just thought some help with housework would be good."

"Alright, go grab it then. I'll show you how to use the washer." Alfred cleared the table, setting the dishes in water to soak before leaning against the wall much as he had the day before, watching Arthur mess with his guitar. "And you don't need to tell me, I'd think I'd have noticed getting hitched." He grinned. "And of course, I forgot. You have your own apron, don't you? I'm going to need some brain bleach to get the mental image of your naked waiter outfit from my memory."

"Mhm." Arthur nodded in agreement, walking out of the room, strumming a song out on his guitar the whole way. He returned a minute later with his arms full of a pile of clothes-riddled blacks, greys, reds and blues, mostly. He stopped in his tracks, again blushing furiously at the mention of the outfit. "T-that was a one-time thing!"

"Was it?" Alfred smirked. "That's too bad. I was looking forward to an encore." He straightened and walked over to the laundry room door, opening it for Arthur, as his hands were full. "Ladies first, sweetheart."

"No. You don't get a fucking encore." Arthur replied, blushing deep red. "And is this wife thing a fantasy? Because you sure as hell are bringing it up a lot." he huffed, pushing through the laundry room doorway.

"Maybe it is." Alfred grinned, loving the way Arthur's cheeks were flushed. "Maybe you should play along." He reached over Arthur's shoulder to adjust the dial to cold water, so the colors wouldn't bleed. "Detergent's over there, darling. Just half a scoop, please, we're water-efficient. Gotta save the world somehow."

"I-I'm not playing along with this!" the smaller of the two exclaimed, shaking his head furiously, his hair brushing against Alfred's nose. Arthur dumped the clothes into the wash, checking the pockets, before reaching towards the detergent.

Alfred breathed in deep and sighed, dropping his head to Arthur's shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist - pretty much doing everything to get in the way. "Such a grumpy monkey, this one." He pressed his smile against the fabric of the borrowed shirt, feeling incredibly lucky.

"I can't do laundry this way, Alfred." Arthur growled, blushing dark red. What was it with all the contact all of a sudden?

Alfred let go with one hand and reached over without looking, punching a button. The machine started rumbling. "There, laundry done. Now what are you complaining about?"

"...Nothing." Arthur mumbled, not even making an attempt to move, Alfred was stronger. He rolled his eyes, not sure whether to smile or frown.

Ah, he did it again. Alfred let go and stepped back, grinning. "Might as well go put the rest of your stuff away, huh?" He stepped out of the laundry room and started walking towards Arthur's bedroom. "There's plenty of room for your bed - I was thinking it would go in the middle, towards the back wall like mine does. Do you need anything else?"

"Anything else...?" he questioned. "No, I don't think so." the boy smiled, following after Alfred. "I have everything I really need."

"Yeah? That's good." He stopped outside of Arthur's doorway and leaned against the wall next to it. For the next month, this was Arthur's home, and he wouldn't go in uninvited. Instead he glowered at the dent he'd put in the doorway earlier that day and vowed to fix it. Everything else in the apartment was perfect, except for that one little thing throwing everything off.

He glanced at Arthur. Well. Maybe he'd leave it after all. It was fitting.

"Mhm." he nodded happily, picking up several books out of his box, and carrying them over to the shelves, placing them in order of publication. He didn't have to worry about the clothes yet, they weren't dry. The guitar was moved to a corner of the room. The last thing left...was the picture, still sitting in the box. Looking up at Alfred, he decided the picture could wait.

Alfred smiled, still lingering in the doorway. "Lookin' good. Want me to throw that box out for you? It's not doin' much for the decor."

"Um...no, it's okay." Arthur replied, panicking slightly. No. Fucking. Way.  
"I'm going to use it, when I need to rearrange." he quickly bullshitted, hoping it would work.

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "For that amount of stuff?" He looked pointedly at the sparse number of books. "Well, alright. Weirdo. You know where the recycling goes, right? For whenever you're done... rearranging."

"In the kitchen, if I'm not mistaken?" Arthur replied, exhaling heavily in relief. Alfred was not going to see that picture.

"Yep, just to the side of the counter." Alfred smiled. "You're awfully attached to that thing, aren't you? Or maybe not, if you're going to throw it away later..." He didn't know what the kid's issue was, but if it was eliciting that sort of reaction, it was definitely worth teasing about. "I'm just kidding," he said soothingly. "It's none of my business. I'm gonna go get ready for bed, and then I'll be in the living room for the rest of the night, alright?"

"No problem." England replied, smiling softly. "I think I will too, there's a bathroom across the hall from me, right?" he asked.

"Bathrooms to your left, my bedroom's across the hall, though there's a bathroom in there too, if you want." Alfred replied, grinning. "I'll wash up in my room, alright? Gotta change out of these clothes anyway."

"Right." Arthur laughed, standing up and Walking out of the room-his temporary room-. "I'll just wear these again tonight, my clothes aren't done washing." Arthur called out, stepping into the bathroom, and standing in front of the mirror, staring into it.

"Alright," Alfred said. "You can have them, if you want. They look good on you, when they're not falling off of you."  
Well, they'd probably look good then, too.  
He cleared his throat and stepped into his room, throwing his clothes in the hamper and stepping into his bathroom. He'd probably have to do his own laundry soon.

Alfred stepped in front of the mirror and balked at his reflection. Alright, so he hadn't actually looked in a mirror all day. The hitch in his morning routine had made him space out and forget to shave - the shadow of whiskers on his face was definitely past five o'clock. It felt dumb to shave right before bed, but now that he had a... roommate, of sorts, he had an image to uphold, didn't he?

Ten minutes later had him walking into the living room in loose-fitting black slacks, shaved and brushed and washed to satisfaction. He sat down in the armchair by the couch, crossing his legs and pulling out the book he'd been in the middle of reading before the whole mess had happened.

Arthur walked into the spare bathroom, standing over the sink, peering into the mirror. He looked fine. He really didn't need a shower.

Regardless, for some reason, he just felt unseasonally /warm/. Shrugging, the boy pulled off the loose-fitting black shirt and turned the sink on, simply running his head under the cold water. After a minute, he shut the water off, shaking his head in a way not unlike a dog.

He pushed his now-damp hair out of his face, slipping the shirt back on, after fixing the drawstring on the pants. They just didn't seem to want to stay up.

The British boy opened the door, looking into the living room. Alfred was just sitting there, Reading. Okay, so it was free time? He walked to 'his' room, moving to the corner to grab his guitar. Before he picked it up however, he took the framed picture out of the box, holding it tightly to his chest, then carefully placing it on the empty nightstand where his bed would soon be.

With one last look at the picture, he set out to the living room, empty box and guitar in tow.

Alfred looked up from his book, marking his page with a scrap of string. "Hey," he said, taken aback. Arthur was dripping wet and still in the same ill-fitting clothes but somehow managed to look stunning. Fuck, now he was waxing poetic.  
But there were water droplets on his lashes and his lips looked red and glossy against his pale skin, and they demanded his attention. Looking for something to distract himself, he glanced at the things Arthur was carrying. He curled his mouth into a teasing smirk.  
"Finished 'rearranging' already?"

"Mm? I'm done, yeah." the boy answered, smiling sheepishly. He set his guitar down next to Alfred, leaning it on the armchair as he walked over to the kitchen, folding the box enough to fit it into the recycling.  
When that was done, he moved back to the living room, picking up the guitar and settling on the couch next to the chair, humming out a tune.

"So, how are you, Al?"

Alfred glanced up at Arthur, startled by the question.  
"Um."  
Ah, how to answer this? He shouldn't stress out about it - it was simply a polite question, and Arthur likely didn't actually care.  
"I'm... alright," he said cautiously.  
"How are you?" He tried to put weight into the words, because he really did want to know.

"Just alright...?" Arthur replied. "There's got to be more to it then that." still, the boy rolled his eyes, smiling slightly as he picked out a melody on his guitar.

"I'm doing great, actually." he smiled softly, looking up at Alfred after a minute.

Alfred flushed, eyes widening a little. "Is that right," he murmured, and suddenly, he was so far past alright, he was -awesome-. His world was this room, with this boy, plucking out music with his guitar and that was -perfect-. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, shutting his eyes and leaning back in his chair, sinking into the plush padding. He wanted this so much.  
"You know," he said, quietly, conversationally.  
"We should get married." He let his eyes flicker open to tell Arthur it was a joke, but for the moment he wished it wasn't. In fact, he'd always wished it wasn't.

Arthur laughed weakly, looking over at Alfred, his bright green eyes shining. "Yeah? I already told you I wasn't your wife, Git" he smiled sadly. God. Damnit. Why did Alfred do this? He kept saying those things, with /no idea/ how much they affected the smaller British boy. "Besides, we can't get married, we haven't even dated yet." he teased, focusing his attention back on the guitar, blushing faintly.

"...Yeah." Alfred smiled softly, letting his eyes fall closed again.  
"You're right. It was just a joke. I'm sorry." Pain played sweetly on his heartstrings, aching all the worse because somehow his joke/comment/plea had hurt Arthur - it showed in his eyes, in his voice. The teasing was getting too serious, touching on things that actually mattered because he couldn't voice them any other way.  
"Play me something?"

Arthur bit his lip, swallowing thickly. Fuck fuck fuck. He was /not/ about to cry...what the hell was wrong with him today...? "It's fine." h laughed, attempting to cover up how much the last five minutes had affected him. He looked up at the man, hearing the request, and nodded. "I-I've been playing this song a lot lately. I didn't write it though, no credit goes to me." he smiled, going though the usual disclaimers. He took a deep breath and strummed out the beggining chords, singing softly.

_"Today was gonna be the day,_  
_But they'll never throw it back to you..._  
_By now you should've somehow realized what you're not to do._  
_I don't believe that anybody,_  
_Feels the way I do_  
_About you now."_

Slowly, Arthur's playing got louder, building in intensity, but not so much that it became unpleasant.

_"And all the roads that lead you there were winding,_  
_And all the lights that light the way are blinding._  
_There are many things that I would like to say to you,_  
_But I don't know how..._

_I said maybe,_  
_You're gonna be the one that saves me,_  
_And after all,_  
_You're my wonderwall..."_

Arthur let the last notes of the song fade away, still smiling softly. He didn't meet Alfred's gaze, afraid of what he'd find there.

Alfred had smiled through the disclaimers, opening his eyes to watch as Arthur started to play. He really was beautiful. His fingers strummed and slid across the guitar, coaxing forth notes to a song that sounded familiar but unfamiliar all at once because he'd heard it but he'd never really -listened-, never had it played just for him.

When the song ended, he did not move. He still watched Arthur, his Arthur, the faint curve of his mouth and the eyes that were not looking at him. He did not move. He felt that if he moved he would break.

After a moment he took a long, slow breath. He felt like he should make a quip here about how the song proved that Arthur thought of him as a hero after all, but he didn't. He leaned over in his chair, just close enough to catch Arthur's head gently, pull him in close enough to press his lips to the boy's hair. "Thank you," he said softly.  
"Good night."

Arthur nodded, smiling blankly. "Yeah. It was nothing." he laughed, standing up, and pulling the guitar with him. "Goodnight, Alfred." he smiled softly, padding quietly out of the room.

/It was nothing?/ the young boy thought, flipping the light switch in the room and laying down in the dark. /That was -everything-./ Everything he had. Maybe, being the stupid, shy idiot he was, a song was the only way he could tell Alfred how he felt. And a song seemed to be...not the best way to get the point across.

He lay there for a long time, staring into the dark. He finally came to a conclusion he'd been working on forever- for over three hundred years.

Arthur had fallen in love.


End file.
